


Squash One, Squash Two, I Love You

by Thealmostrhetoricalquestion



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Attempt at Humor, Christmas Fluff, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Multi, POV Adam, Potions Accident, Ronan Swears, Ronan is in love with Adam's hands, Slice of Life, Slow Build, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, updated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-23 08:58:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4870921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion/pseuds/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Why won’t this thing ever open normally?” Gansey asked, staring at the door, although he sounded more nonplussed than annoyed. Nonplussed. That was a word that had made its way into his vocabulary, Adam thought with some amusement, purely because of Gansey. </p><p>“Noah keeps floating through the lock,” Adam explained, just as Noah did just that. Noah paused next to Gansey, who looked at him suspiciously for a second and then shook his head with a sigh. </p><p>“What have I done?” Noah asked, with a look of innocent confusion. Adam could see the hint of a smirk at the corner of Noah’s translucent mouth. </p><p>“You’ve ruined everything, Noah,” Ronan mumbled into his pillow. “You’ve fucking ruined Christmas.” </p><p>Now Noah really did look confused. “What? It's September." </p><p>“Firewhiskey,” Adam said, by way of explanation. </p><p>(Or, the one where they're all in Hogwarts, and Ronan is a dick and Adam is in love with him. Edited to include a second chapter.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is courtesy of (aggressivelynotchill) Dani, whom you can find on Tumblr.  
> It's the first in a four part series.  
> It's also trying really hard to be funny, and I'm hoping it's not awful.  
> The minor mentions of alcohol and abuse are canon-level typical, actually less than canon-level typical.  
> Thank you!

The courtyard was strewn with leaves, all painted from an autumn palette. Ronan lay on a crumbling stone table, as one did when one was bored and insolent. Adam had bundled up Ronan’s discarded cloak and was now using it as a comfortable barrier between him and the cold stone bench beneath him.

Gansey, the reason for their boredom, was lying on the floor among the leaves, staring intensely up at the wall of the West Wing. The West Wing, and its courtyard were technically out of bounds for Hogwarts students, but Gansey had a way of convincing even teachers that butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. And so they sat, in the waning summer sun, waiting for some kind of clue to come out of the wall.

Ronan lifted one hand up to the sky. Adam peered up at it, and found an apple caged behind Ronan’s fingers. A few of his nails were covered in chipped black nail polish, courtesy of a drunken night and Blue’s mischievous smirk. Ronan had, in return, pissed her off by not bothering to react to his new manicure.

“Oi, Dick.”

Adam couldn’t know if Ronan was referring to Gansey’s real name or just trying to insult him, but Gansey gave him a reproachful look either way. Ronan didn’t appear to notice.

“Haven’t you studied that fucking monstrosity for long enough?” Ronan leaned up on his elbows. Lean muscles strained against his white shirt, which was rolled up and incorrectly buttoned. Ronan rolled the apple back and forth under his palm, long fingers twisting it to and fro. Adam watched, transfixed, his mouth parted.

“What did you call it?” Gansey demanded, mouth dropping open in a scandalised fashion.

“A. Fucking. Monstrosity.” Ronan over enunciated each word, packing enough volume behind the sentence to bounce it off the courtyard walls. Adam, privately, agreed with him. The portraits on the wall were hideous.

The wall of the West Wing had been painted with tall portraits of the Four Founders. The paint had long since begun to fade, but their faces, their long colourful cloaks and their prized possessions remained visible. Rowena Ravenclaw looked down her long nose at them, her eyes full of an intelligence that translated even through brick and paint. She held her diadem in one hand, a simple glass crown inlaid with purple jewels.

Salazar was next. Slytherin had a handsome face, all angles and lines, and a sly smirk that curved his mouth. The smirk reminded Adam a little of Ronan. An ornate locket hung from Slytherin’s neck, the size of a small chicken’s egg.

Helga Hufflepuff had a kind, welcoming look to her. She was small and dainty, with fiery red hair. Her cloak was more golden than yellow. In her hands, she held an exquisite golden cup out in front of her, as if entreating Adam to drink.

The last of the Four Founders stood taller than the rest. Godric Gryffindor had a chiselled look about him. Power flickered in his eyes. A sword, twice the length of his forearm, lay on the ground beneath his feet. Gansey had studied the sword over and over, concluding triumphantly that it was the same one that lingered in a glass case in the Headmaster’s office.

Maybe it was from staring at the portraits for days on end, week after week, but Adam couldn’t help but feel that they were unsettling, unnatural even. There was something ugly seething beneath the surface. Ronan eyed them disgustedly whenever he got the chance, and Blue refused to look at them for more than a second. There was something hideous about them that only Gansey couldn’t see.

“Lynch, this is a historic piece of art, and you will give it the respect it deserves,” Gansey said, jolting Adam back into reality. It wasn’t a proper order. Gansey had only given three real commands to them before, and all of those times, one of them had been in danger.

A smile lingered at the corner of Gansey’s mouth.

“Historic piece of art my ass,” said Ronan savagely, lying back down. He threw the apple high above him with a quick flick of his slender wrist. The apple rolled over in mid-air for a moment, a dimpled orb against the blue sky, before it dropped neatly into Ronan’s opposite hand.

Ronan accepted it easily, as if there had never been any doubt that he might not catch it. Even over something so small and insignificant, Ronan was cocky. Adam wished he had that kind of confidence. He also wished he had Ronan, preferably a lot closer to him than he was now.

Yawning, Adam checked his watch. _It’s the middle of the day,_ proclaimed the watch, _you shouldn’t be sleepy._ Yet Adam existed in pretty much a constant state of tiredness, struggling to balance his schoolwork, and meticulous and carefully-worded letters to his Father, and his Prefect duties, with the extra load of work that came with being Richard Gansey III’s friend.

“I have to go,” Adam announced, just as Blue Sargent tumbled through the overgrown hedges guarding the courtyard. The hedges were prickly, laden with thorns and spikes, and Blue frowned down at a scrape on her arm. She waved her wand carefully over the scrape and the skin healed itself.

“I definitely have to go,” Adam said under his breath, heaving himself upright.

“Are you still looking at that?” Blue demanded, hands on her hips. Her school shirt was tie-dyed a watery purple and her ripped pleated skirt went well with her big black combat boots. Adam kept his uniform impeccably neat, Ronan went out of his way to make his against the rules, Blue didn’t care as long as she had an edge and Gansey was effortlessly tidy, as usual. They were none of them the same, not even when it came to something like fashion.

Noah, of course, wore his uniform too, but it was outdated and transparent.

“Where are you going?” Gansey asked, tearing his eyes away from Blue. His drawings of the portraits on the wall were forgotten in favour of taking in their only female friend.

“Charms practice,” Ronan said, speaking over Adam. Adam balled up Ronan’s cloak and threw it at his face, but Ronan simply caught it. The apple had vanished, although Adam doubted Ronan had eaten it.

“Prefect Duties,” Adam corrected, eyeing the other boy suspiciously.

Ronan shrugged, sliding easily off of the table. He looked rumpled, and a little sun-kissed, and he strode away from them all with his hands in his pockets, shaved head tipped back against the sky. “I don’t care,” Ronan said, not stopping, “I just want to get away before the love-struck looks come out to play.”

Adam grimaced. He didn’t have a crush on Blue anymore, and he definitely didn’t have one on Gansey- that wasn’t why he grimaced. Ronan had to make things awkward, or hostile, or tense. Blue narrowed her eyes after him, but Ronan slipped under a bit of overgrown thistle and ducked out of view, whistling highly. Adam raised a hand at Blue and Gansey, who were both looking decidedly shifty. They were very obviously Not Looking at each other.

“See you later,” Adam said in a deliberately mild voice, strolling after Ronan. Maybe if he ignored the awkwardness, the awkwardness would go away.

Ronan was waiting impatiently on the other side of the hedge. He had tied his cloak in some sort of makeshift cape and was waving a broom in Adam’s direction. It was a slim model, black and streamlined and dangerous. Adam winced, and looked from Ronan’s broom to his own. Except it wasn’t his own broom, it belonged to Hogwarts school.

Brooms were expensive.

“I wish you’d let me snap that fucking thing,” Ronan said, staring at Adam’s borrowed broom as if it had personally offended him. “It’s ugly as fuck, and slow as fuck, and broken as fuck.”

“What kind of fucking are you doing?” Adam smirked. He wasn’t one for coarse language, not usually, but sometimes it shocked Ronan, and Adam was a fan of things that shocked Ronan.

Ronan wasn’t shocked, but he did shoot Adam a dark look. He swung a leg carelessly over his broom, and shouted “Fuck you,” as he shot away over the Black Lake.

Adam wasn’t one for coarse language, and the words Ronan used were ugly, usually, but the way he said them was heavenly, in Adam’s opinion. Ronan was still a rich boy deep down under all the tattoo’s and the black clothes, and he’d learnt how to dot his I’s and cross his t’s at an early age. He spoke richly, with as much affection as Gansey, and yet his tongue was a little loose around the words, letting them fall wickedly where he stood.

Henrietta still had a tight grip on Adam’s accent, no matter how hard he tried to loosen it.

The West Wing was on the far side of the castle and the only way to reach it from the outside was by flying over the Black Lake and landed on a tight ledge on the side of the cliff face. If you went up, you reached the courtyard, and if you went down, you met the mouths of many caves. The group had yet to explore them, but Adam was sure that Gansey meant them to, eventually.

Adam hated flying, and he hated flying on an unsteady, old broom. He would hate flying even more, however, if it took place on a broom that his friends had bought him. With that thought in mind, Adam shook off any reserves he had over this broom and swung himself onto it, chugging after Ronan at a much more sensible pace. It might also have been a pace favoured by Grandma’s and snails all over the world, but Adam was fine with that.

Ahead, he watched Ronan dip and twirl and shoot through the sky, soaring up and then dropping down in a freefall that barely ended in time. Sometimes he sunk down to snatch up handfuls of water, and sometimes he disappeared from view, head quite literally in the clouds. It made Adam feel quite sick, but there was nothing to be done.  
Ronan flew the way that some reckless drunk drivers raced.

“Slow down, you moron,” Adam yelled, as Ronan once again dived downwards. He skimmed the lake as he pulled up, water spraying everywhere. Adam sped up a bit, determined not to be left behind.

Ronan didn’t slow down. Ronan didn’t do anything slowly, didn’t know how to, and he certainly didn’t answer to Adam. He would listen to him, but that wasn’t the same as answering to him.

As soon as they reached the edge of the lake, Adam brought his broom down and stumbled off of it, feet landing on firm ground. He breathed a sigh of relief, watched Ronan soar ahead towards the Quidditch Pitch without slowing, and sighed again, for a completely different reason.

He stayed there, poised near the ebb and flow of the obsidian tide and waited until Ronan was a black dot in a sea of blue, and then began the trek back to the Castle.

“Depulso,” he murmured, on the stone steps, and watched his broom flee back to the safety of the school broom shed. He slipped through the double doors and sighed, immediately enveloped by a throng of students. He had charms practice to do, and then he was going to sleep for a year.

 

*

 

The dormitory was a mess by the time Adam got there. He cracked his knuckles, coaxed a crick in his neck free and hefted three large textbooks under his arm. The dormitory door was stuck again, most likely the result of a failed locking spell. Adam grimaced and then shoved one shoulder into the door, jamming the handle up. The door rocketed open and Adam burst through.

Ronan snorted.

Adam picked himself up off the floor with a glare and then hurriedly averted his gaze.

One of the downsides of sharing a room with Ronan was this; he was not shy. He was not shy about his habits, about his mannerisms, and least of all about his body. He was a private person, but private was not the same as shy. Luckily, Adam had grown used to this downside, enough so that sometimes he barely even reacted to Ronan’s state of undress. However, sometimes he was caught off guard, like today.

Adam schooled his expression into something resembling mild disinterest as he placed his books carefully on the bedside table.

Ronan was slouching gracefully across his bed, shirtless, his school trousers swapped out in favour of black cotton pants. His limbs were spread out casually and he cradled a half-empty bottle of firewhiskey in one hand. His eyes were dark and seemed to invite danger, or at the very least, more firewhiskey.

“Don’t go flying,” Adam said. He kept his eyes on his books, away from the sharp planes of Ronan’s chest, the soft skin stretched over lean, hard muscle. “Not in this state.”

“Telling me not to do something is practically an engraved invitation to do it,” said Ronan. His voice was only a little slurred, but Ronan was a heavy drinker, especially as the nights closed in. There was more yet to come. He drank for the sole purpose of getting drunk, for forgetting and numbing.

“It’s not, actually,” Adam argued. “I know you only listen to Gansey, and personally I don’t care if you crash into a tree, but even you have to know that racing whilst drunk is a stupid idea.”

Ronan’s face had hardened. His jaw was a clenched line and his eyes were dark with an indecipherable expression. His long fingers played with the neck of the bottle, and then in one swift movement, he downed the rest of the contents.

Adam gritted his teeth. He had been lying; obviously he cared if Ronan wrapped himself around a tree, but he was a big believer in looking after yourself, in taking responsibility for your own actions. It was why he never went along with Gansey ripping himself apart to try and keep Ronan whole. It was why he despised Ronan’s brother, Declan, who felt that Ronan should be kept at home where Declan could keep an eye on him. Or more appropriately, have the house-elves keep an eye on him, so that Declan could go and live the luxuriant life he had carved for himself.

Ronan was smart, and educated, and he grew up at The Barns, where hard work was encouraged and enjoyed. But he never fucking acted like it.

Oh, he acted smart. Smart-assed. He casually corrected Adam’s arithmancy calculations whilst ignoring his own homework, and he spouted long, detailed accounts of the Goblin Wars in front of Blue, who hated history of magic. It was Gansey that stood by with Sobering spells and dragged Ronan to their examinations.

They were three weeks into their last year of Hogwarts, their NEWT year, and so far Ronan had been given ten detentions, snuck into Hogsmeade three times and organised one raging party in the grounds, at two o’clock in the morning. He was constantly on the brink of expulsion.

And yet, no one would dare to expel him.

“What’s got you looking like that?” asked Ronan. He was levitating the empty bottle now, making it cartwheel through the air. Adam looked hard, but he couldn’t see a wand in Ronan’s hand. He was doing it thoughtlessly, wandlessly, and tipsily.

“I hate that you can do that,” said Adam, gesturing at the bottle. Ronan looked at it thoughtfully, as if he hadn’t even noticed it, and then shrugged.

“Not my problem,” Ronan said decisively. He collapsed back against the pillows.

Adam was about to retort, and no doubt start a fight, when Gansey burst into the dormitory. He glared hotly at the door as it slammed shut behind him, as if the door had somehow betrayed him and insulted his honour at the same time.

“Why won’t this thing ever open normally?” Gansey asked, although he sounded more nonplussed than annoyed. _Nonplussed_. That was a word that had made its way into his vocabulary, Adam thought with some amusement, purely because of Gansey.

“Noah keeps floating through the lock,” Adam explained, just as Noah did just that. Noah paused next to Gansey, who looked at him suspiciously for a second and then shook his head with a sigh.

“What have I done?” Noah asked, with a look of innocent confusion. Adam could see the hint of a smirk at the corner of Noah’s mouth.

“You’ve ruined everything, Noah,” Ronan mumbled into his pillow. “You’ve ruined Christmas.”

Now Noah really did look confused. “ _What?_ ”

“Firewhiskey,” Adam said, by way of explanation.

“Oh,” Noah said, shaking his head heavily. Adam winced. Whenever Noah moved, whatever he was standing in front of appeared to move too. It made Adam feel sick.  
Gansey was at his trunk, throwing things over his shoulder and muttering under his breath. Over on his bed, Ronan struck up a drunken rendition of The Murder Squash Song, ignoring Gansey’s threats of actual murder. The empty bottles of firewhiskey cartwheeled straight through Noah’s stomach. Adam wondered if it was possible to join Noah in ghostlihood simply by wishing really, really hard.

Once again, it was going to be a long, long night.

 

*

 

Adam sat in the library, head buried in a thick tome that would hopefully shed some light on his potions homework. Adam was a skilled wizard, a fact which was mostly down to practice and determination and a father that frequently snarled the word _squib_ at him, but potions was a subject that frequently had him at a loss.

So far, the book had taught him that potions was a complex and intricate science, which was something he had known all along. It also informed him that he’d been doing his Hiccup Solution wrong for about six years now. That was something he’d also known, since Gansey croaked like a frog for three hours after every sip of it. Adam didn’t know why Gansey still drunk it, but it was amusing, and he had an inkling that Ronan kept slipping it into Gansey’s pumpkin juice.

The book had not, however, taught Adam anything that was actually useful.

Dragging one hand through his hair, which was twice as dusty today from rummaging through old books, Adam sighed and put down his quill. He tried to think like Gansey.  
Gansey was in Ravenclaw, just like Adam and Ronan and Blue. Just like Noah had been, once. It had been a surprise to absolutely everyone that Gansey had been sorted there. Even Adam, who hadn’t known him at all in first year, had been surprised that Gansey was Ravenclaw material. He just had this look about him, grounded and cheerful and kingly, almost, the ideal candidate for Gryffindor. Gansey was also shit at potions, Adam reminded himself.

Well, he wasn’t shit, not like Adam was, but he just didn’t have time for it. He was busy, always busy, with his search for The Four Founders. Adam had to admire Gansey’s determination. No matter how many books and professionals and historians told him that The Four Founders were dead, long gone, Gansey powered on, believing firmly that The Four Founders were alive, and asleep, somewhere in Hogwarts.

It was perhaps the most bizarre belief for a teenage boy to have, which might be why Adam was so thoroughly on board with helping him discover them.

Speaking of Gansey, Adam jumped as the other boy burst through the library doors. He gave a winning smile and an apologetic wave to the librarian, whose stern expression melted into something sappy and bashful. Adam pulled a face.

Gansey swung himself into a chair opposite Adam. He sat up tall, his hair lightly ruffled and windswept, as if he’d just been out flying. Knowing Gansey, this was a possibility- he had a great love for his broom and he spent his breaks doing wide sweeps of the Black Lake and the grounds. His Nimbus was an outdated model, but it had been remodelled and painted bright orange, and no matter how many times it fucked up and dropped Gansey from great heights, the other boy refused to replace it.

Adam wasn’t entirely sure whether he preferred the school brooms over Gansey’s. At least with the school brooms, Adam could control the speed. On the back of Gansey’s broom, there were no winners.

“Parrish,” Gansey said cheerfully. His arms were full of old rolled up maps and scrolls. He deposited them directly on top of Adam’s potions book, burying it. Adam was not sad to see it go, but he scowled anyway. It was the principle of the thing.

“Don’t look like that,” said Gansey. He unrolled a large map, which drooped over the edge of the table. It was as familiar to Adam as Gansey’s face, due to the fact that Gansey always carried it with him.

“Blue and I went for a fly, out past where the Giant Squid lives,” Gansey muttered. He was barely talking to Adam now- his focus was entirely fixed on his map. He dragged the tip of his wand over the surface of the scroll, and places began to highlight themselves, flashes of red and blue and green.

“We found a few more caves set into the cliff face, and I’m certain most of them must go below the waterline. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any of my equipment, and I have not yet mastered the conjuring spell necessary to create any.” Gansey frowned unhappily, obviously annoyed at himself. “It was a lack of foresight that I regret.”

“Ronan’s good at that spell,” Adam said mildly. It went against his very nature to put the words Ronan and good within an inch of each other, unless it was along the lines of Ronan is good at being a dickhead, and he’d never let the other boy hear it, but it was true. Ronan Lynch was an asshole, and a dickhead, but he was a good wizard. A fantastic one, even.

A shadow fell across Gansey’s map. Ronan snagged a chair from a nearby table, ignoring the protests of the girls that occupied it. He flipped the chair around and then slung himself into it, facing them over the back of the chair.

“High praise from you, Parrish.”

Adam decided not to reply. This was usually the safest bet when it came to Ronan. It wasn’t that Adam hated the other boy, but Ronan rubbed him the wrong way. They clashed, like Blue and Gansey’s broom.

When Adam remained quiet, Ronan looked to Gansey instead. Gansey had his glasses on, thin wiry spectacles that were barely visible, and was pouring over the map, scribbling notes in the margin with Adam’s quill.

“Well, this is fucking exciting, isn’t it?” Ronan drawled. He produced an apple from nowhere and began to tear bites out of it, chewing obnoxiously loudly.

“I think it depends on which book you find yourself reading,” Gansey said lightly. He still didn’t look up from the map. Adam shook his head, smiling slightly.

“Where’s Noah?” Adam asked, tugging his potions book back out from under the map. The book was whining at being smothered, so Adam smoothed out the pages carefully, pretended not to notice Ronan’s eyes on his hands. “I haven’t seen him since breakfast.”

“I hear there’s a ghost that haunts the girl’s bathroom,” Ronan said, sneering. “Maybe it’s Noah.”

“Don’t pretend that you wouldn’t haunt the girl’s bathroom, given the chance,” said Adam dryly.

“Only the bathrooms with actual baths in,” Ronan said, taking another bite. “But Noah’s the kind of creep that would float around the U-Bend.”

Ronan held his hand out, gazed fixed intensely on his half-eaten apple. It vanished after a few seconds, and then another unbitten one took its place.

“Noah is not a creep,” said Blue, appearing at Ronan’s shoulder. She had no patience for Ronan, although they were still friends, or as close that someone could come to being friends with Ronan Lynch. She was also quite close with Noah.

“He appears in the mirror when I’m brushing my teeth,” Ronan said tightly. “It’s traumatising. One minute I’m looking at my handsome face, and the next, his miserable mug is looking back.”

Adam had to bring his book up close to his face to hide his laugh. It was then that he spotted the small inscriptions down the side of the margins, made in a familiar, looping handwriting. He frowned at it. He had definitely seen the handwriting before, but he didn’t know where. Shrugging, Adam deftly snatched his quill back from Gansey and copied the words down into his own notes, hands moving quickly as realised how _useful_ they were.

Blue leaned over to look at Adam’s scribbles. She arched one eyebrow, her eyes flicking around the table, but she said nothing.

Adam had had an enormous crush on Blue, one that had blossomed up during their second year of Hogwarts. It had lasted maybe a year before Adam had felt it fading. They had been young, but even then, Blue’s admiration for Gansey had been pretty obvious. The two seemed magnetised somehow, always drawn to each other. Even now, Blue was edging around the table, probably unaware of the movement until she found herself in the space right next to Gansey.

“Are you aware, Blue,” Ronan said, tipping back in his chair so that he could stare at the ceiling. “That if you moved a few inches to the right, you’ll be sat in Gansey’s lap. Maybe then you can tell us what he’s doing that’s so dreadfully boring.”

Blue shot Ronan a dark look, which he ignored.

“Shut up, Lynch,” Gansey muttered. “I’m marking where our first cave trip is going to occur. I have a feeling that they may require research first, just in case.”

“Unsafe structures?” Adam asked curiously, glancing up from his notes.

Gansey’s eyes were gleaming with delight. “I believe so. However, some of the caves seem to travel right underneath the West Wing Courtyard. It’s possible that there might be some clues as to the Four Founders whereabouts down there.”

“Maybe they’re buried down there,” Blue suggested, shrugging. “There does seem to be something about those caves. They have a strange kind of energy.”

Ronan rolled his eyes. “Alright Trelawney, let me know when you’ve finished your divination session.”

Blue sat up suddenly. “Oh! Divination.”

The boys watched, baffled, as Blue shot out of the library like a bat out of hell, sending two people flying.

“I don’t know why she takes that class,” Ronan said, frowning. “The teacher’s a fraud.”

“She predicted the prophecy for The Chosen One,” Adam reminded him, although personally he thought that Professor Trelawney was the kind of person who got lucky once in a while when it came to her readings.

“She also told Gansey that she could see a thin, bespectacled lady in his future,” Ronan said, grinning sharply.

Adam frowned. “So?”

“It was her reflection in the crystal ball.”

 

*

 

Adam slid two bottles of butterbeer down the length of the bar. Madame Rosaline, Rosmerta’s daughter, caught them and handed them to the customers, collecting three galleons with a wink. She tucked one galleon in the pocket of Adam’s apron as she sashayed past. Adam shook his head with a sigh, but he kept the galleon.

It was unprecedented for students to work in Hogsmeade, or at all, whilst still studying at Hogwarts, but Adam had special circumstances. His Father was a dickhead who would rather set fire to his money than give it to Adam to buy his school supplies. The small fund from the school had been fine for the first few years, but Adam disliked charity. So now that he was seventeen, he worked, on the weekends, at The Three Broomsticks, pouring drinks and lending a sympathetic ear to the drunkards who lolled about at the counter.

He was polishing bottles when Ronan came in through the door, the bell chiming happily. Ronan was dressed in a thin black shirt despite the cold, although he did have gloves on. He sank into the seat nearest Adam at the counter. There was a goblin next to him stacking several piles of small coins. Ronan regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, and then looked away.

“Something strong for me, Parrish,” Ronan ordered, lounging on the stool. He drummed his hands on the counter, which was when Adam realised that the gloves were fingerless.

Adam pulled a butterbeer out from under the bar, shrugging when Ronan glared at him.

“I can’t afford to lose my job just because you fancy being miserable for a few hours,” Adam told him, putting the bottle in Ronan’s hand. Their fingers brushed for a fraction of a  
second before Ronan drew away.

“Clearly you’ve never gotten drunk before,” Ronan said. He grimaced at the butterbeer, but sipped it, regardless.

“You know that’s a lie,” Ada said, frowning. “You were the one who got us all drunk last year, remember? Blue giggled for about half an hour.”

“A memorable moment for you, I’m sure,” Ronan said darkly.

Adam paused, his hand halfway to a rag to clean the glasses with. They were beginning to pile up on his side of the bar. Ronan had gone from light and breezy, or as light and breezy as Ronan got, to pissed off in the space of a second. Adam regarded him for a moment, and then said mildly, “I remember you singing that ridiculous song.”

Ronan glanced up at him and then away, quickly. A hint of a grin was growing in the corner of his mouth. Ronan was not the happiest of people. He was a dickhead, and he was also a bit dark and deadly. His wit was razor-sharp, cutting to the quick. He didn’t usually care who he was offending. Still, that didn’t make him impervious to happiness. Adam had seen him laugh before, a big, careless shout of laughter, and he smirked more than he grinned, but grin he did.

“I think that was the day that Noah made it up,” Ronan said, downing his drink.

“And he didn’t even have the excuse of being drunk,” Adam agreed.

“Can you get a break?” Ronan said, glancing down the bar at Madame Rosaline. She caught his look and winked, blushing. Ronan raised an eyebrow, obviously amused, but didn’t respond.

“I’ll ask for half an hour,” Adam said, putting the rags down. “My hands need a break anyway, they’re getting all callused from the bar work, see?”

He held his hands out, palms up, to show Ronan the tough skin on his fingers. Ronan glanced at them. His eyes seemed to stick there for a moment, before he looked away, shooting an impatient look at the door.

“You’re being boring,” Ronan said dryly. “I’ll be outside.”

Adam stood still for a moment, watching bemusedly as Ronan disappeared. He flipped Ronan off, out of principle, and then sidled along the bar to talk to his boss.

Five minutes later found him standing in the crisp October air, his jacket buttoned up to the collar. He was half-expecting Ronan to have vanished, bored, but the other boy was leant up against the wall opposite The Three Broomsticks, all long, curling limbs and sharp angles. Sharp. It was a good word for Ronan.

He had conjured up a jacket, a black leather one, and his gloved hands were tucked in the pockets of his expensive jeans. Adam could see the tip of his tattoo curling up the side of his neck, which was bare against the cold.

He looked like every Mother’s definition of a Bad Idea. He was cigarette smoke and the bright lights of a tattoo parlour, the screech of tires against a dark street. He was an oil slick in sunlight.

Adam loved him.

That was something he didn’t like to think about too often. Possibly he was avoiding it, this fact that poked and prodded at his skin. He knew that Ronan had a crush on him, or that he used to, anyway. It had been flattering, back then, something to cling to as his relationship with Blue crumbled. The selfish part of Adam had been glad of it, even.  
And then his own crush had come to light, and he had looked a little harder at Ronan, a little longer, and fallen right in love. Not the fairy tale kind. Just the kind that hurt a bit, in the best way.

Ronan looked up and raised an eyebrow at him. Adam swallowed hard against all the emotion, locked it back up tightly. He wouldn’t risk this friendship, not when he was so sure that Ronan had moved on, that he had never had any intention of telling Adam.

Adam jogged over, dodging a gaggle of fourth-year girls who were giggling behind their hands and gazing admiringly at Ronan. “Where are we going then?”

Ronan looked him up and down. The smallest of smiles graced his face. “Zonko’s, obviously. I need something to piss off Gansey, and something else to annoy Blue with. I was thinking about that soap that dyes your skin blue.”

“Original.”

“Fuck off.”

That night, when Adam had finished his prefect rounds, he stumbled upon something beneath his pillow. It was a piece of parchment, folded over twice, with instructions for a spell on the inside. _For your hands._

 

*

 

The pumpkin patch was thriving this year. Adam was bundled up in a burgundy jumper, big brown boots with tartan inlays keeping his feet warm. Ronan had taken one look at him and professed loudly that his outfit was ‘pretentious and inspired by hipsters all across the globe’. Adam didn’t think Ronan had the right to label anything as pretentious, considering his skinny black jeans were painted on and he often spouted nonsense that he’d memorised in an effort to sound intellectual. Not that Ronan wasn’t intellectual, but the facts were usually about obscure pieces of art or rock bands that no one had heard of.

Adam crossed his arms over his chest. It was cold- the brisk autumn air playfully teased the strands of his hair. He was tired, which was mostly due to Professor Binns, who had set a three-page long essay on the Rights of Goblins following the four years of their Revolution in the seventeenth century. Adam had spent the better half of the previous evening tucked away in the corner of the common room, watching Ronan out of the corner of his eye as the other boy tested his new stash of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, and trying half-heartedly to cover such a dull topic.

Now though, Adam was not plagued by homework. Instead, he watched as Ronan pulled a tape measure from his jacket pocket and set about measuring the nearest pumpkin.

“Remind me,” Adam said slowly, watching as the tape measure flicked here and there as Ronan tapped his wand. “What are we doing, exactly?”

“Stealing a pumpkin,” Ronan stated mildly. “For the dormitory, you know.”

“Of course,” Adam said solemnly, “All dormitories need a pumpkin.”

Ronan shot him a look and Adam held his hands up in surrender. He quickly shoved them back down when the chilly air nipped at his fingers.

“Karma,” Ronan said, a sly grin visible at the corner of his mouth. “And that’s why you should wear gloves. It’s winter, Parrish. Take a leaf out of my book.”

“It’s autumn, actually, Lynch,” Adam said, “And you’re wearing fingerless gloves, so I don’t see how that’s any better.”

“It keeps my palms warm,” Ronan said, prodding a nearby pumpkin with a dubious look on his face. “And it means Blue can’t read my lines again. I don’t want to know if I’m suddenly going to die in three years.”

Blue had moved onto palmistry in Divination now, and she had been set a piece of homework that required her to read seven palms and predict their future. Even though she called it a bunch of crap, she still had to do the homework. According to her, Adam was going to have four children and a heart attack, which Adam thought would probably be connected if they were true.

“Can’t we just ask to have a pumpkin?” Adam asked. “What do you need it for anyway?”

The castle had already been decorated for Halloween. Bats flew through the corridors, and the suits of armour were appropriately dressed in capes and rubber masks, holding large axes or long silver chains. The ceilings were dusted with cobwebs and fake, green spiders. Creepy music filled the hallways.

Adam wasn’t fond of Halloween, but he did love autumn. He loved watching the leaves turn red and orange, loved watching the sky fade from blue to a burnished gold. Autumn meant that things were changing.

He shivered. Ronan looked up at him and rolled his eyes.

“Look, loser, if I conjure you up something warm will you stop being such a wimp? Your teeth are chattering and it’s irritating me.”

Adam didn’t have time to reply. A paper cup of hot coffee was pushed into his waiting hands, along with a rolled up pair of navy gloves. He slipped them on and wiggled his fingers gratefully in Ronan’s face. He wanted to say that it was unlike Ronan, to give him something thoughtful, but it would have been a lie.

Ronan was thoughtful. He just hid it well.

“You didn’t answer me, about the pumpkins.”

“Hagrid’s in the woods,” Ronan mumbled, “and I can’t be assed to go and get him to ask. And we need a pumpkin for the dormitory.”

Adam waited.

Ronan glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and smirked. “Alright. I want to drop one on Noah and see what happens. Some spells work on him, I want to see if spelled pumpkins work too. But I’ll put the other one in the dormitory.”

“We’re stealing two now?” Adam demanded. He couldn’t be too angry, not now that his hands were warm and he could taste coffee on his tongue. Still, it was the principle of the thing.

He had to drop his coffee in the next second, as Ronan shoved a heavy, round pumpkin into his arms. Adam staggered back with a small oomph and shifted his arms around for a better grip.

“Quick, go!” Ronan hissed, heaving another, larger pumpkin up from the ground. Adam glanced wildly around and saw the big, shadowy figure of Hagrid emerging from the treeline. Ronan was swearing pushing Adam until Adam began to jog, hindered by the massive weight in his arms. He could barely see anything.

They crouched low behind the copse of trees that grew behind Hagrid’s hut. Ronan was grinning wildly, a fierce glint in his eye. Adam slid down the length of the tree trunk, leaving Ronan to watch the hut as he panted and clutched the pumpkin.

“Why do I always go along with your ideas?” Adam said, shaking his head.

“According to Gansey, it’s because I’m a force of nature,” Ronan said, shrugging. Adam had to laugh at that. He rolled the pumpkin out of his lap and let his head drop back against the tree, shutting his eyes.

“Adam,” Ronan said quietly. Adam shivered, but didn’t open his eyes. Ronan didn’t usually call him by his first name. It was always Parrish, or loser, or idiot. He felt something soft and warm brush across his temple, shifting a few strands of hair out of his eyes. He froze, surprised, and the tentative touch disappeared.

When he opened his eyes, Ronan was regarding him with a strange, indecipherable look in his eye.

“You had a leaf in your hair,” Ronan said quietly. He held up the leaf. It was yellow and bronze and red, fragile between Ronan’s thin fingers.

Ronan was still looking. Adam looked back.

Ronan stood up abruptly. The hesitant air around them snapped, draining away. Adam shivered again. There was a sharp ache in his chest, as if he were longing for something. He didn’t know what, though.

Probably coffee, he thought, dismissing it. He stood up too, pointing his wand at his pumpkin. It shrunk down to the size of a chicken’s egg, and Adam pocketed it.

Ronan did the same, and then without a word, stormed off in the direction of the castle. Adam sighed. It was always like this- something happened, something unexpected but welcome, and Adam just had to get his hopes up every time. And then Ronan disappeared, or started a fight, or broke the moment up, and his hopes fell again.

He would accept it, one day, Adam told himself. He would accept that Ronan didn’t want him like that, not anymore, if he ever had wanted him in any way at all. One day.  
But not today, he thought, as he started after Ronan. Not today.

 

*

 

The Halloween Ball took place on the first day of November.

Adam surveyed his reflection in the mirror with an increasingly dismayed expression. It was a costumed ball and attendance was mandatory when you were friends with Gansey, who was popular. People expected him to be there. Gansey hadn’t even needed to ask for Adam to agree to accompany him there. It was sort of a given that they all followed him.

Gansey was in the bathroom, humming along to some vile music that was pouring out of their wireless radio. Adam groaned as he pulled at the sleeves of his top. He was just wearing a too-big pair of black jeans and a loose black top. He couldn’t think of anything creative to dress up as and he didn’t have the money to splash out on a costume, so depressing colours would have to do.

Ronan sauntered in just as Adam was shoving his feet into his school shoes.

“And the prize for the dullest, most predictable costume goes to Parrish,” Ronan said dryly. He had plastic suit holder over one arm and a smirk on his face.

“Unless you’re going as a Death Eater,” Ronan added, “In which case, kudos to you for being so daring.”

“I don’t do dressing up,” Adam said, frowning at his reflection. He turned away, watching as Ronan emptied his school bag into his trunk, dumped the bag onto the floor and then collapsed onto his bed. He didn’t look inclined to get up anytime soon, or get changed. “What are you doing?”

“Swimming,” Ronan said dryly. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“It looks like you’re bailing on the Halloween dance,” Adam said, raising his voice just loud enough for Gansey to hear. There was a clatter as Gansey fumbled with something, and then the other boy appeared in the doorway.

“Lynch,” Gansey said cheerfully. “Hurry up and get dressed, will you? I left a costume in your trunk.”

Ronan propped himself up on his elbows so that he could eye him suspiciously. “Is it a sexy healer’s outfit? Personally, I think I’d rock that look, but I’m not doing it just for your benefit.”

Gansey arched one eyebrow. “Yes, you’ve caught me. I’ve secretly harboured an interest in seeing you in a skirt and cap.”

Ronan smirked. “Who knew you had it in you to be so dry?”

“It must be a Halloween miracle,” Adam muttered under his breath, just as the door opened. Adam had to blink rapidly before he recognised Blue. Her skin sparkled with silver and blue glitter. She wore a ripped black skirt and a shiny blue top, with silver gloves that came up to her elbows. Over the gloves, she wore an array of dazzling rings. She had sparkly tights on and a pair of silver pumps, and a pair of colourful wings protruded from her back.

“Terrifying, maggot, truly terrifying,” Ronan declared.

Blue put her hands on her hips and glared at them all. “Why are none of you ready? You look like you’re going to class, not a ball.”

“Jane,” Gansey said. His voice was a little soft, and Adam watched as Gansey shook himself, hastily clearing his throat. “We’re in the midst of convincing Ronan that he’d make a fantastic Sexy Healer.”

Blue tilted her head to one side. “I suppose he does have those tender, caring qualities that Healers are well known for.”

Ronan scoffed. “First of all, I don’t need convincing. I look fantastic in anything. And second of all, Healers spend their lives sticking needles into innocent people. They’re a lot less tender and caring than everyone else makes them out to be.”

Blue settled herself on Noah’s bed, shaking her head. Adam didn’t know how he knew, but he could tell that she did it fondly. She was slowly growing friendlier with Ronan, as time went on. “Will you just get dressed, all of you? I want to eat.”

“In a minute,” said Ronan, who never did anything if he was told to do it. Gansey disappeared back into the bathroom, and Adam sat down. He felt a little uncomfortable in his tight clothes.

“I’m not used to seeing you out of your school robes,” Blue commented, eyes flickering over dam’s form. “And when you are, you normally wear that Coca-Cola t-shirt.”

Adam sighed. “Your Aunt still calls me Coca-Cola boy.”

Blue laughed. Glitter cascaded down from her eyelashes. “First impressions mean a lot to her. That’s going to stick, I’m afraid.”

“Gansey, what the fuck is this?” Ronan yelled, disturbing the moment. Blue jumped and Adam looked round in surprise. He was far too used to Ronan’s outbursts to be truly shocked, but it was still unexpected.

Gansey’s head popped back around the door. His face was white from paint, and a pair of glasses sat on the bridge of his nose, thick-rimmed.

“What do they look like, Lynch?”

“They look like wings,” Ronan hissed. “And I am not fucking wearing them.”

“Just go as yourself,” Blue said, rolling her eyes. "That'll scare anyone." She flounced towards the door. “I’ll see you all down there. Don’t take too long.”

She blew them a kiss, and then she was gone.

Adam smiled and then turned his attention back to Ronan. Ronan, who was spitting nails and glaring at the long black wings in his hands. They were feathery and dark, soft-looking. They arched up like angel wings, curving down into a blunt point.

They would look good on Ronan, Adam realised. But there was no chance of Ronan wearing them.

Prickles ran up the back of Adam’s neck. “Hey, Noah,” Adam said. His shoulders felt cold. “You just missed Blue.”

“I passed her on the way in,” Noah said, drifting around so that Adam could see him. He was watching Ronan with an amused look on his translucent face. He looked a little fuller, a little brighter, more substantial, the way he always did after he saw Blue.

Blue had a little extra magic in her, and Noah liked to borrow it at times. He liked to feel alive.

“Are you coming to the ball?” Adam asked. Ronan was busy yelling at Gansey.

“I was thinking of going as a ghost,” Noah said dryly, “do you think that’s appropriate enough for Halloween?”

“Very spooky,” Adam agreed, grinning.

 

*

 

“I can’t believe he wore the wings,” Adam groaned, shoving his head in his hands.

They were crammed into a broom cupboard just outside of the Great Hall. The music and laughter from the Ball drifted through the crack under the door, hauntingly sweet and high.

“There’s not enough room in here for all of us and your lust, Adam,” Noah said. He was drifting near the door, a shelf protruding from his chest. Blue was perched cross-legged on top of a table at the back of the cupboard, and Adam was bundled in by all of the brooms. It smelt of sandalwood and alcohol.

“You’re a ghost, Noah, you could hang from the ceiling if you want more room,” Adam said, leaning back against the brooms. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but Adam had had enough to drink that he didn’t mind.

Blue giggled, and then hiccupped. She was clutching a bottle of something strong. It was half-empty.

“And it’s not lust,” Adam protested, slurring a little. Things were a little fuzzy, and he felt as if he were floating.

“If it’s not lust, it must be looove,” Blue sang. Her voice twanged prettily. Henrietta still clung to Blue’s accent too, but the difference was that Adam wanted his gone, and Blue didn’t care. She liked who she was.

Noah made a disgusted face. “Surely not. Surely you don’t love Ronan, of all people.”

“He’s not that bad,” Adam said, after a pause.

“He threw me out of a window!” Noah exclaimed. “Plus, he’s a dick.”

“So is Gansey, sometimes,” Adam pointed out. “And me, and Blue. And you too. You’re a dick sometimes. We’re all dicks.”

Blue tipped her bottle at him in acknowledgement, and then downed it. Noah cheered. Adam took a swig from his own bottle. He couldn’t taste it now.

“Gansey’s not always a dick, though,” Blue blurted out, a little defensively.

“You’re only saying that because you love him,” Adam said, mimicking her sing-song tone.

Blue shook her head firmly. “No. He still calls me Jane, and sometimes he still forgets that he’s privileged, but he’s working on it. He’s not a dick on purpose.”

“You didn’t say you don’t love him,” Adam said pointedly.

“We have that in common, then,” Blue said, just as pointedly.

Adam grimaced. Then he let his head drop back into his hands. Then, he sighed explosively. “At least you have a chance with Gansey,” he said. “Gansey loves you just as much back, even if he does call you Jane.”

Blue blushed. Her cheeks were already red from the drink, but this was different, a shy flush. It looked like hope, lighting her up from under her skin.

“How do you know?” Blue said.

Noah snorted. “Please, don’t pull that. Time stands still for him whenever you’re around. You should have seen how upset he was when you had a crush on Adam.”

Adam nodded in agreement. “Yeah, he gets all sappy and glowing when you’re around.”

Blue smiled. It was a small, private smile, as if she meant it for Gansey even though the boy was nowhere near them.

From somewhere in the castle, a bell began to chime. The music tapered off, leaving them in silence. It wasn’t awkward, just a little sad, the way things always are when they come to a close.

“We better get going,” Noah said, and then he was gone, in the space of a second. Adam blinked drowsily at the shelf and then shrugged, getting to his feet with some difficulty. Blue let out a big sigh and then hopped off of the table, vanishing their bottles with clumsy wand work.

“Better find the others,” Adam mumbled, reaching for the door handle.

Blue grabbed his shoulder. “I don’t know if you love him for real, but if you do, then you should know it’s the same for him.”

Adam shifted around so that he could fix Blue with a quizzical look. “What?”

“You aren’t the only one who looks like that, you know. It’s mutual, I can tell. Whenever you say his name he does this weird, gross shiver. Besides, you both spend way too long looking at each other’s hands.”

Adam spluttered incoherently. Blue patted him on the shoulder, a little pityingly, and then pushed open the door with a grin.

 

*

 

Adam came back on the second of December, after one day of the Christmas holiday with a black eye and a bag of coal. He landed in the Headmaster’s study, spat out by the fire, and sat dizzily for a moment. A few lumps of coal had scattered across the rug, spilling coal dust. Adam murmured a spell under his breath and the mess vanished. The coal remained, though. Something had been done to it, something that meant Adam couldn’t get rid of it.

The Headmaster was not at his desk, so Adam scurried out quickly, keeping to the sides of the corridors, in the shadows where people wouldn’t look at him. He arrived at the Ravenclaw dormitory. His head ached, as did his eye, and he was so impatient to be inside that he didn’t hear the riddle.

“What?” Adam said irritably, his hand clenched around the bag of coal.

Noah floated through the portrait, coming to a stop in front of Adam. He took in Adam’s face with a hollow look, and then murmured, “It’s the original Sphynx Riddle. The answer is a man.”

“Oh,” Adam said tiredly. “Thanks Noah.”

The portrait door swung open silently. Adam could feel the judgement radiating off of the smug little man in the portrait, and was pleasantly surprised when the door slammed shut with a loud squawk. He glanced at Noah, who was grinning smugly. Noah was less of a ghost and more of a poltergeist. He felt much more alive than the other ghosts that roamed the castle, mumbling and murmuring. There were twice as many ghosts in the castle, since the war against Voldemort’s army. A lot of them were Noah’s age. Adam couldn’t pretend that it didn’t sadden him, or that it didn’t frighten him. It was frightening, to see that many youngsters dead.

“Your eye,” Noah said quietly. “Why don’t you do a concealing spell?”

“I tried to vanish the last one,” Adam admitted, “but it just turned it blacker. I haven’t got the hang of it yet.”

“Gansey’s upstairs,” Noah told him, floating towards the dormitory steps. “He’s pretty good at concealing spells.”

“It’s fine, Noah,” Adam said firmly. “It’s just a bruise. I don’t need anything.”

Noah hummed noncommittally. He kept quiet as they ascended the stairs to their room. He kept quiet as he floated through the lock, leaving Adam to wiggle the handle ineffectively before slamming up against it. He kept quiet for the five seconds that he was in the dormitory room, before a spell shot from Ronan’s wand, catapulting Noah out of the open window.

Adam stared, eyes wide, as Noah disappeared from view, surrounded by a halo of blue light. Then he looked at Ronan, who was sniggering into his hand. "You have got to stop doing that."

“He’s already dead,” Ronan started to say, but then he caught sight of Adam’s face, and a scowl rearranged his features. His face darkened. Adam tilted his chin up, face impassive. He didn’t want to talk about it.

“Are you ever going to do anything about it?” Ronan asked bluntly.

Adam didn’t say anything.

“Anything about what?” Gansey’s voice came from under his bed, muffled. Adam shot the bed a quizzical look, and Gansey’s head popped out from under it, his hair lightly ruffled. He clambered up, a long-forgotten textbook in his hands. His expression was pleasantly cheerful until he glanced at Adam’s eye, and then he looked dismayed.

“Adam,” he said quietly. “You know you don’t have to put up with that-.”

“That dickhead,” Ronan put in, mouth contorted into a snarl.

“That _man_ ,” Gansey said, shooting Ronan a warning look. It was as if Adam wasn’t in the room, as if he couldn’t hear them talking about him.

“There’s room at my house, plenty of it,” Gansey continued. He was earnest and eager and helpful, and Adam hated it. He wanted to punch the expression away. He wasn’t a violent person, a deliberate decision made by someone who had felt the sting of a fist to the face more than once when it was undeserved.

Privately, Adam sometimes wasn’t sure that they were undeserved. He knew that was probably because of how long he had left it, but he couldn’t help it.

“I know you like to have us all under one roof,” Adam snapped, “but I’m fine where I am. Even if I wasn’t, I’ve only got half a year left here anyway.”

He threw the bag of coal down on the bed, where it tipped over, spilling its contents over the fresh coverlet. Adam winced. The coal had been his Father’s idea of a cruel joke, but Adam couldn’t find anything funny about it. Silently, Ronan waved his wand and vanished it. His expression was foul.

“You should let me sort him out,” Ronan said viciously, turning around so that he could rummage through his bags. “I’ve had enough fights with Declan to know how to kick the shit out of him.”

Adam shook his head. “You fight with everything, Ronan. If it breathes, you fight it.”

Ronan made a little snarling noise.

Adam was a little concerned that Ronan might do it, as well. He wouldn’t put it past Ronan. “Gansey, can we have a minute?”

“I don’t think I should leave,” Gansey said slowly, putting down his textbook. “You both look livid.”

“We’re not going to fight,” Adam said through gritted teeth. His eyes were glued to Ronan’s back, which was tense and poised to attack. “Just like Ronan isn’t going to fight my Dad.”

“Your dear old Dad thinks you’re a cowardly squib, and you aren’t doing anything to prove him wrong, are you?” Ronan said nastily. His voice was all thorns.

Adam flinched. He couldn’t help it- it was an ingrained response. That word, squib, was usually accompanied with a fist to his face or a foot to his stomach.

“Forget it,” Adam said hollowly. He moved quickly, snatching up his bag, which he had left behind when he went home for Christmas, and was out the door before Ronan could even turn around. Slamming the door behind him, Adam stormed down the stairs. His chest felt empty, as if everything important had been scooped out. He knew Ronan only said things like that because he knew they hurt.

But why did he have to say _that_?

Adam made it outside, unaware that he was breathing hard and fast, anger curling in his stomach. The grounds weren’t unoccupied- students wandered towards the lake, dallying in the heat, and others lounged on the grass, soaking up the watery January sun. Adam crossed his arms, suddenly uncomfortable. He never really felt like he belonged at Hogwarts, not really, but now, without Gansey or Ronan, or even Noah and Blue, he felt more like an intruder than ever.

He crossed the grounds to the broom shed and wrestled with a school broom. He flew across the lake mindlessly, where a crumbling courtyard greeted him. Adam settled on an old stone bench beneath the oak and maple trees, hidden in the shade. He didn’t have a cloak, but the air was surprisingly warm. He rolled up his sleeves and undid his tie, pulling a book out of his bag. He was determined to forget about Ronan, just for now.

“I didn’t mean it.”

Adam almost fell off the bench. He swore, righting himself and looking wildly around.

Ronan was in front of him. His face was impassive, eyes dark and still, fixed on Adam’s face. Adam took a deep breath and put his book down. He had barely even finished the first page.

“How the hell did you find me so quickly?” Adam demanded.

“You honestly think I didn’t fucking come after you?” Ronan sneered. He looked uncomfortable, somehow, hands in his trouser pockets. Maybe he hadn’t meant to say that. Maybe he was at a loss for words. Adam found that doubtful.

Clenching his jaw, Adam snatched his book back up, ducking his face down to the page. He heard Ronan swear under his breath, a long stream of harsh, scathing words.

“I told you, _I didn’t mean it_.”

Adam turned a page. He hadn’t finished the last one, but he didn’t care. He didn’t even know which book it was anymore. It could be upside down and inside out, for all he knew. Ronan swore again, loudly this time, and directed at Adam. The other boy stalked closer, looming over Adam. He was a thin dark shape against a backdrop of sunlight.

“You look different,” Ronan said abruptly. Adam frowned down at his book. He was determined not to look up, but he was desperate to see Ronan’s expression. “Messy.”

Adam blushed to the roots of his hair. It probably looked awful after dragging his hands through it. His shirt was rolled up clumsily to his elbows and his tie was barely tied. He normally looked much more put together.

“Screw you,” he said, under his breath. “It’s hot.”

Ronan snorted, and then threw up his hands. “Fuck you back. I wasn’t saying it to be a dick.”

“You’re always a dick,” Adam said, almost casually.

Ronan had apparently lost patience. Not that he usually had much to begin with, but now he had finally reached his limit. Two hands grabbed the front of Adam’s shirt and hauled him up. Adam stumbled, knocking his knee painfully against the stone bench as he was half-dragged over it.

_“I didn’t fucking mean it.”_

The words were snarled into the space between them. One of the buttons popped on Adam’s shirt, which was still held captive in a white-knuckled grip.

“You mean everything you say,” Adam said explosively. He threw one hand out to shove Ronan away, but instead of pushing him, his hand inexplicably held tight to Ronan’s shoulder.

“Not to you!” Ronan snarled back.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Adam demanded, thrown. “I’m the only one you lie to, is that it?”

“I don’t lie to anyone,” Ronan said harshly, cutting Adam off. He crushed Adam’s shirt between his fists. Adam could feel nails scraping his skin. “I didn’t mean to say it, is what I meant.”

Adam was, abruptly, very tired. He remembered thinking, once, that it would not be a normal day in the life of Adam Parrish if it did not include a fight with Ronan Lynch. He wished that today was not a normal day. “I don’t think anyone knows what you mean anymore, least of all you.”

Ronan had written those notes in the margin of Adam’s potions book, when he knew Adam was struggling. Ronan had pulled Adam out of the lake, when his crappy school broom had finally snapped like it had been threatening to do for a while. Ronan had given him the spell for his hands, his gloves, conjured coffee up for him. He thought of Ronan with a leaf in his hands, an intense look in his eyes.

“I called you a squib because it pissed you off,” Ronan said hoarsely. He was barely inches away. Adam could feel his breath against his face.

“It didn’t piss me off,” Adam muttered. “Calling me a bastard or a Slytherin or a dickhead would have pissed me off. You didn’t call me a squib because it pissed me off.”

“It did piss you off,” Ronan argued, but then he rubbed a hand over his head, eyes jammed shut. “It just fucking hurt you too.”

“Fighting is exhausting,” Adam murmured quietly. His throat hurt, maybe from raising his voice, or maybe from swallowing down poisonous words. “It’s the last year, and then I don’t have to worry about exams or prefect duties, or even the hunt for The Four Founders.”

“You do too much. So don’t fight,” Ronan said, after a beat. “It’s not a hard concept, Parrish.”

Adam glowered up at him from beneath his lashes. “Don’t do that. Don’t make it all my fault. We’re always fighting, and it’s never just me. Why do we fight?”

Ronan shrugged, although he looked a little wary, a little unsure. “I don’t know. Don’t turn this into a girly heart-to-heart Parrish.”

Adam took his hands back so that he could throw them up in the air, exasperated. “You can’t even have a serious conversation without sticking your head in the sand.”

“We’re in a courtyard, Parrish,” Ronan said, smirking. “There isn’t any sand here.”

Adam shook his head, sighing. “Fine. Whatever. Are you going to let go of me so we can go and convince Gansey not to send out a search party?”

Ronan looked surprised, almost as if he’d forgotten he was holding onto Adam, and then his expression turned blank, smoothing over. He released Adam’s shirt slowly, fingers lingering on his shoulders.

Adam frowned, eyes narrowed. That had not been the face of someone who was disgusted with him. That had not been the face of a person that didn’t want to be near Adam.

“Ronan,” he said quietly. There was something in his voice that muddled his insides, that made Ronan freeze. “Ronan?”

Ronan stayed still, although an impatient look flickered across his face. He cleared his throat a little awkwardly and tried for a sneer. “Are you going to keep saying my name or are you going to get to your point?”

Adam recalled Blue’s words. _You aren’t the only one who looks like that, you know. It’s mutual, I can tell. Whenever you say his name he does this weird, gross shiver. Besides, you both spend way too long looking at each other’s hands._

Adam thought of the spell tucked under his pillow. For your hands.

“Ronan,” he said again, cautiously, testing it as he put the weight of Henrietta on the word. It bent easily under his tongue, and there it was, the _gross little shiver_. Except it wasn’t gross at all, it was exciting and mesmerising, and above all, it was familiar. It was the way Adam had shivered, not a month ago, when Ronan had finally said _Adam, instead of Parrish_.

“You’re off your nut,” Ronan said finally, his voice all hoarse and husky. “Fucking crazy.”

“Put your hands back,” Adam told him firmly, leaning in. Ronan’s eyes went wider by the second, but he didn’t move away. He didn’t move at all.

That was what stopped Adam. He was used to being a certain person, a grounded and mature person. He knew how he felt about things, and he was rooted in them. This, though, was unsure territory. He had Blue’s words and his own assumptions to go on, and Ronan wasn’t even moving.

And then Ronan _was_ moving, pushing forward and setting thin, dry lips to Adam’s own. It was the briefest of touches.

In a few years, Adam wouldn’t remember the kiss itself, the way their mouths moved, or the taste of peppermint on Ronan’s lips. But he wouldn’t have forgotten it either. He would remember the way his stomach jumped and his heartbeat raced, the soft noise Ronan made as they drew back from each other. He would remember feeling surprised and content and relieved and excited.

And he would remember the way Ronan smiled afterwards, briefly, always briefly, but bright.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love potions go wrong, there are lots of secret kisses, sappy stuff and swearing galore!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit it's been literal years. I was going to do this as a separate fic but I decided to just continue it as a second chapter instead. The only warnings are for mentions of alcohol, serious fluff and lots of swearing. There is a brief moment where Ronan is under the influence of an Affection Potion, but hand-holding is all that happens and everyone knows about it, so he's safe and swiftly taken care of. I hope you enjoy this chapter! And thank you so much for all the loveliness from last time, you were all brilliant!

“It’s too narrow for a broom, and the slope is much too steep. I don’t think even Ronan could fly down there, even if he _was_ sober.”

“I’m sober,” Ronan argued unconvincingly. He had propped his broom up against the cliff wall and was keeping one hand on it at all times, as if to ground himself. It wasn’t working; every time the broom wobbled, Ronan wobbled too. He was barely even standing. Adam looked warily from the grey-ish hue of Ronan’s skin to the cave that sat in front of them. He didn’t quite know which option was going to be the more painful one.

“My mistake,” said Gansey cheerfully. “I often throw up in the bushes when I think nobody’s watching me, too. I’d just forgotten. Thank you for the reminder.”

Adam snorted. Ronan sniffed indignantly and slumped back against the wall. “I was being discreet,” Ronan slurred. “I _was_. You shouldn’t be so nosy, always with the fucking nosiness.”

“He’s lost it,” Noah said gleefully. “He’s really lost it.”

Adam reached over and snatched the bottle out of Ronan’s grip, tipping it upside down. A splash of amber liquid drizzled over the lip of the bottle, but it was plain to see that Ronan had already had more than enough. It was usual, around Christmas, for Ronan to be withdrawn and careless, but Adam had never seen him get this plastered around the holidays, especially not in the middle of the day.

“Don’t waste that,” Ronan said, his voice a little clearer. “It cost me twenty galleons.”

Blue made a jagged, spluttering sound and then closed her eyes, like she was fighting for patience. Adam could practically see her counting in her head. “ _Twenty galleons_. You could feed a family for a week with that kind of money. Gansey, get us into that cave before I punch him.”

“Like you could reach me, short-stack,” Ronan said, letting his head roll back and hit the wall.

Gansey was frowning down at his calculations. They were perched on the very edge of the cliff, staring down at the hollow circle that was pressed into the face of stone. The abandoned courtyard was above them, obscured by rows of trees and crumbling pillars. Coarse blades of grass sprouted up out of the ground at Adam’s feet, but other than that, the space was empty. It was an unremarkable place. It didn’t seem like a place where The Four Founders would be buried, but Gansey was adamant.

“I don’t think we should all go down,” Blue said sensibly, sighing as she watched Ronan’s feet slip a little. “You’re only exploring the first level, aren’t you? If we can’t use brooms, we can use ropes and proper climbing equipment. Gansey?”

Gansey kicked at an over-sized sports bag that sat on the ground by his feet. “Five steps ahead of you, Jane. They’ve been magically reinforced, so there shouldn’t be a problem, but I thought we could cast Lightening Charms just in case. Since Lynch is plastered, he should stay up here. Anyone want to volunteer to stay with him?”

“I would,” Noah said, “but I don’t want to. I’ll take the cave.”

“Adam should do it,” Blue piped up slyly. Her eyes twinkled mischievously, and she grinned despite Adam’s glare.

“Fine by me,” Gansey said pleasantly. “Jane, Czerny, suit up. I bought some of the best, most expensive harnesses. The shop-keepers recommended them specifically, and you can never be too careful when it comes to safety…”

Adam rolled his eyes, whilst Noah shot Gansey a look of fond confusion.

“Sure,” Noah said, his form flickering. “I’ll just … put this on.”

Five minutes later, Adam watched as his friends carefully lowered themselves into the cave. Blue looked afraid but determined, and Gansey’s face was nothing more than a mask of excitement. Noah looked bored and a bit more transparent than usual. Once they had disappeared into the relative darkness, Adam sighed and retreated to where Ronan was now slumped against the ground, long legs sprawled out in front of them. Adam chewed on his lip before sliding into the space between Ronan and his broomstick, which had collapsed to the floor as well.

“I could always use a Sobering Charm,” Adam suggested quietly. He already knew what the answer would be. “I’m quite good at them now.”

“Your Dad teach you?” Ronan asked, a little nastily. Adam gritted his teeth and moved to get up – he didn’t have to put up with Ronan’s moods if he didn’t want to, especially not when he was being an _ass_ – but Ronan grabbed Adam’s wrist and held on tightly, eyebrows furrowed. Adam stopped.

“I’m drunk,” Ronan said apologetically. “I hate this time of year. Fucking holidays man, y’know?”

Adam did know. He crashed back down to the ground and sighed.

He had been trying hard not to think about the fact that he was at Hogwarts for Christmas this year, as opposed to every other year, when he forced himself to go home for the sake of appearances, and for his mother. He didn’t quite know what had made him to snap this year, but Adam’s drunk, disorderly Father had barely brought his hand back when Adam had poured Floo Powder into the fire and vanished, taking his black eye with him.

Adam hated Christmas because he had never really celebrated it, and he hated not knowing what to do.

Ronan hated Christmas because his dad was dead, and his mother was in a magical coma in St Mungo’s, and his brother, Declan, treated him with disdain and condescension. Adam suspected that Ronan only ever went home for Matthew, whom Ronan adored. Matthew had an angelic face and golden curls and a soft voice, and he treated Ronan with sweet idolisation, no matter how often Ronan told himself that he didn’t deserve it.

“It’s only for a few weeks,” Adam said, in an awkward attempt to be consoling. He rubbed at his nose with the hand that was free, eyes drawn to Ronan’s fingers around his wrist. Ronan stroked his thumb along the vein and tipped his head to the side, looking at something just beyond Adam. “Then you get to come home.”

Ronan looked at him sharply. His eyes were a little out of focus, and his mouth was slack, and Adam was seriously considering a Sobering Charm, just so that he would be less tempted to kiss the boy in front of him. They had only kissed once, in the courtyard a few days ago, after a fight that had dissolved like snow on hot skin.

Home. Adam had said _home_.

Ronan didn’t bring it up. “M’not going back anyway. Declan sent a Christmas Card this morning, one of those fucking generic candy-cane pieces of shit. He probably didn’t even write it himself, probably got the House Elf to do it. God knows.”

Ah. Declan. That explained Ronan’s less than sober state.

“What did it say?” Adam asked quietly. He stared out at the black lake, watching ripples appear in the water and picking at a loose thread on his robes.

“The usual,” Ronan said. “’Bout how my grades are too low and how he’ll pull me out of school if I keep this shit up, send me to Durmstrang instead. Like I’d be caught dead in that shithole.”

“You’re seventeen,” Adam pointed out wearily. “You’re of age, now. He can’t pull you out of school and he can’t keep you from going home for Christmas.”

Ronan kicked a clump of grass with the heel of his boot, a miserable look all over his face. “No point anyway. Declan’s spending it with a bunch of high-up wankers from the Ministry, and Matthew’s staying at Beaubaxton’s. I sent him a bunch of gifts.”

“Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes?” Adam guessed.

“Among other shit,” Ronan said, smirking. “Gotta remind him of the true spirit of Christmas, and all that jazz.”

He was still holding Adam’s wrist like it was something precious.

“So you’re here for Christmas, then,” Adam said, less like a question and more like a statement.

“Right,” Ronan said quietly. He seemed to be thinking hard about something, but he kept quiet whatever it was inside, and Adam would need a lot more patience to drag it out of him. Another slow stroke along Adam’s wrist sent his heart buzzing. He felt like his nerves were on fire.  

Adam had thought a lot about that kiss. He thought about it at night, and at breakfast, and whenever Ronan opened his mouth or licked his lips. He thought about it in charms class once, and when he snapped out of his trance Ronan’s name had been scrawled all over his notes, written over and over again in Adam’s finicky handwriting. He had hastily screwed the parchment up and shoved it in the bottom of his bag.

He wondered if Ronan thought about it too. He wondered if Ronan wanted to do it again.

“Parrish,” Ronan said quietly and then, for the third time, “I’m drunk.”

And then he leaned forward and mashed their mouths together.  

It was clumsy and sloppy, but it was still the second best kiss Adam had ever had. Ronan ran his tongue messily along Adam’s bottom lip and then sucked it into his mouth, humming, and Adam tasted the bitter tang of alcohol. His eyes fluttered shut and he made a soft, pleased noise as they kissed and kissed and kissed, leaning into each other.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Ronan drew back immediately. Adam stayed where he was, mouth slack, blinking in an attempt to break the haze he had fallen into.

Noah eyed them both with a sly, knowing grin.

Adam cleared his throat. “What are you doing? I thought you were exploring.”

“Gansey got the wrong area,” Noah explained, still staring at them. “The cave only goes down one level, so there wasn’t much to explore. They’re coming back up, so you might want to put your tongues away before Gansey faints and falls back down.”

Adam snorted. “I’m sure Blue would happily give him the kiss of life if that happens.”

Noah’s grin widened. “Oh, is that what they’re calling it these days? Did Ronan need mouth to mouth?”  

“I’m drunk,” Ronan said, like it was an excuse, but his eyes said otherwise.

“Adam isn’t,” Noah pointed out, just as Blue shouted irritably from inside the cave.

“Whenever it’s convenient for you,” she yelled, her voice echoing strangely. “I’d like to get out of here sometime today. Gansey’s shirt is glowing in the dark and it’s making my eyes hurt.”

Gansey made a wounded sound. “It’s yellow, not _fluorescent_.”

*

A snowball slammed into the windowpane with enough force to shake the entire common room. Adam barely glanced up from his books. It had been going on for half an hour, and Adam knew exactly who was down there in the grounds, dyeing the snow black with a whispered spell and shoving it down the back of Blue’s collar. It was the same person who had woken them all up this morning by striding into the dorm and dousing them all in icy water with a flick of his wand, the same person who had snuck a quick, clumsy kiss to Adam’s cheek in the resounding mayhem before ducking out of the way as Gansey fired a procession of pillows at him. The pillows had collided with a mournful Noah instead, who had become remarkably more corporeal ever since Ronan had tried a few Solidifying spells out on him, and war had broken out.

Another snowball rattled the window and Adam sighed exasperatedly. He put his quill down on top of his half-finished essay and rubbed at his eyes. It was late in the afternoon on the day that everyone was leaving for the holidays, and he was studying, much to Ronan’s disgust. Much to his _own_ disgust, in fact, but he was jittery and out of place and couldn’t make himself go outside.

The portrait door swung open and clattered against the wall. Adam winced as the old painting spluttered indignantly, ruffling its feathers as it snapped shut behind Ronan with a haughty look. Ronan raised an unimpressed eyebrow at the table, where all of Adam’s work was spread out, cluttering up the space. Adam arched an eyebrow back.

“How did you get up here so quickly?” Adam asked, jerking a thumb at the window, where the imprint of the last snowball still stained the glass.

“Noah threw that one,” Ronan explained lazily, collapsing into the armchair. Except he didn’t sit in the bit of empty space between Adam and the arm of the chair, _no_ , he fell right on top of Adam and sprawled there quite comfortably, a heavy weight in his lap. Adam made a choked sound and shoved at Ronan’s shoulders in a futile attempt to _breathe_. He gave up when Ronan started to hum the Murder Squash Song threateningly under his breath.

“Asshole,” Adam muttered, and Ronan raised one fist in agreement.

“It’s all part of my plan,” Ronan said cheerfully, or as cheerful as Ronan got. “See, I’m trying to get this fucking moron of a guy to stop being such a loser and start enjoying Christmas like a normal person.”

Adam rolled his eyes, but the effect was somewhat dampened by the fact that Ronan couldn’t see him. Adam shifted Ronan’s elbow so that it didn’t dig quite as much into his stomach, and then said, “If you crush me to death, I don’t think I’ll be much use in a snowball fight.”

“Noah’s managing pretty well.”

Adam went quiet, and decided to take it as a sign that Ronan didn’t want to move just yet. There was no one else in the common room, just a cat on the opposite side of the room, curled up asleep on top of a bookcase. Still, Adam was cautious as he wound his arms slowly around Ronan’s waist. He wasn’t used to this, to being able to lay claim to things with just a whisper of a touch, especially when those things were Ronan, but that was exactly what happened in these small moments that they manage to steal together.

Ronan settled back against him after a short, tentative pause, and it no longer felt uncomfortable.

“Listen to this,” Ronan said suddenly, breaking the silence. Ronan was good at silences, and Adam was good at keeping quiet, but lately they had begun to fill the space between them up with words and sighs and touches, and all of a sudden their relationship wasn’t quiet. All of a sudden, it was a _relationship,_ or the beginning of one, anyway.

A pair of headphones snapped down over Adam’s ears, and he braced himself, waiting to hear some of Ronan’s brash, harsh music, or possible the Murder Squash Song, if Ronan was feeling particularly dick-ish. Instead, something beautiful and vibrant floated listlessly through his head, and Adam caught his breath.

“What _is_ this?” he asked, tightening his hold on Ronan’s waist, although he couldn’t hear Ronan’s reply. “You don’t usually listen to stuff like this.”

He pulled one headphone away from his ear as Ronan tipped his head back against Adam’s shoulder and said, “Phoenix Song. I heard it in a dream, and Flitwick taught me a spell to recreate it. Apparently it’s ten times as fucking powerful in real life, though.”

“I can’t imagine,” Adam muttered, but he wasn’t really thinking about the song anymore. It was beautiful, a song of sorrow and pain and hope, but what was even more beautiful was that it had come from Ronan’s mind. Pulled out of the depths using a spell that wasn’t taught in school, something that required power and strength and cleverness, something that Ronan had sought out. It always sat in the back of Adam’s mind, this constant realisation that Ronan was clever, smart, knowledgeable, that he knew things that the rest of them didn’t, that he read books when they weren’t looking, created spells when he was bored, used incredible magic just for the hell of it.

“Play this shit at my funeral,” Ronan demanded, punching Adam in the thigh. Adam dug his fingers into Ronan’s side in return and laughed when Ronan jerked away.

“Don’t be so morbid, guys,” Noah said, appearing in front of them.

“ _Fucking shit_ , _Christ_.”

“No, just me,” Noah said easily. “Although it _is_ Christmas, so you might get lucky.”

Ronan let out another string of artful curses and shot off of Adam’s lap, accidentally ripping his headphones off of Adam’s head. Adam rubbed his ears and glared balefully at the two of them.

“Blue wants to know why you both disappeared,” Noah said, picking at the skin on his thumb. “Shall I tell her that you were busy canoodling?”

“ _Canoodling_ ,” Ronan spat, in disbelief. “What century did you die in?”

“We weren’t doing anything, Noah,” Adam said, rolling his eyes. “I just wanted to finish my essay off before Christmas Day, and Ronan was here because he lives to irritate people.”

“Ronan _was here_ ,” Ronan corrected him firmly, “because you’re supposed to use the days _after_ Christmas to catch up on homework. Not fucking _during_ the holiday.”

Adam opened his mouth to reply when he caught the look in Ronan’s eye. There was something different about his stare, something he hadn’t spotted before. Frustration, maybe. Ronan never usually complained about the way Adam worked; he understood it, although he didn’t like it. He never pulled Adam away from his books, just pushed food under his nose and ate with him in silence, or quizzed him on the way to wherever Gansey was dragging them this time, or slammed a relevant book down beside his head when he was furiously studying in the library. He worked around Adam’s determination, rather than going up against it.

This, though, this was different.

_I’m an ass_ , Adam thought to himself.

Noah rolled his eyes and floated over towards the portrait. “I’ll just tell them that you were arguing like an old married couple. You might want to come down soon, though.”

Adam tore his eyes away from Ronan to ask, calmly, “Why?”

Noah smirked. “Gansey said something about how it wouldn’t be fair for him to hit a lady, even with something as ineffective as a snowball.”

Adam winced, and Ronan snickered under his breath. “Fucking idiot. Does he still have all his limbs?”

“You’ll have to come outside to find out.”

Noah floated through the portrait door and Adam heard the painting on the other side squawking about insolent youths. Ronan wasn’t looking at him, was busy fiddling with his headphones so that he could avoid Adam’s gaze, and Adam let him have his avoidance, if only so that he could piece together a sentence in his head.

He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong when Ronan made a frustrated noise and snapped, “You’re being a dick, Parrish.”

Adam snapped his mouth shut slowly and waited. Sometimes you had to wait, with Ronan. Ronan was good at silence, but sometimes he needed space to think, space to talk, to know that there was enough room in the air to fill up with his words.

“At least bring your fucking books outside with you,” Ronan said, clenching his fists together. “We won’t bother you, but maybe you could actually deign to show your face during this festive fucking holiday season.”

Adam blinked at him in surprise. Whatever he had been expecting, it hadn’t been _that_. He cleared his throat and said, tentatively, “You – uh. You want me there?”

An expression flickered across Ronan’s face, there and gone so quickly that Adam didn’t have the chance to identify it. Instead, he watched as Ronan drew himself up, just to deflate and hiss, “ _Jesus_ fuck, Adam, of course we do. How stupid are you? It’s not like they’re spending half of the holiday here instead of back home just because –”

He trailed off, rolling his eyes, but Adam took over for him.

“Just because I haven’t got a home to go to.”

It wasn’t strictly true. Adam had a home to go to, and he had tried, a week or two ago, but it had been a short-lived attempt that ended abruptly after his father slammed a fist into his face and shoved coal at him. Any other year, and Adam probably would have taken the hit and spent the holidays there anyway, like he did all the time, but this was his last year of Hogwarts. At the end of it, he’d be able to earn his own money, get his own place. Get away from his family.

He had a home, but he didn’t think he would ever be going back there again.

“Don’t be so fucking miserable. You have a home,” Ronan grumbled, shoving his hands aggressively into his pockets. Adam leaned forward, tugged one of his hands back _out_ of his pocket and held it tightly, tangling their fingers together. Ronan blinked down at him, his hostile expression shifting into one of uncertainty.

“Sweet,” Adam said drily, arching an eyebrow.

Ronan narrowed his eyes at him. “Fuck off.”

Adam snickered, and Ronan looked briefly victorious before scowling. He crushed Adam’s hand in his own until Adam kicked him in the shin, and then started to drag Adam towards the portrait.

“C’mon, let’s go and watch Blue shove a snowball up Gansey’s ass.”

*

A blizzard blew in overnight, dusting the tops of the turrets in powdered sugar and glazing every window with a white sheen. The Ravenclaw Common Room was freezing, and Adam was exhausted, but he couldn’t make himself go back upstairs, to where Gansey was muttering under his breath as he read and Noah was, _impossibly_ , snoring louder than a lawnmower on a rampage. He didn’t know where Ronan was, hadn’t peeked behind the closed curtains around his bed. On the off-chance that Ronan was actually asleep, Adam hadn’t wanted to wake him up.

He sank down on the rug and carefully aimed his wand at the hearth, concentrating. A fire leapt to life amongst the logs, and Adam relaxed as warmth wrapped itself around him. He was dressed in a pair of thin pyjama bottoms and a threadbare sweatshirt with a hole at the hem; not enough to keep the chill away, not by far. He rubbed his red nose and pulled his book closer to him, determined to ignore the goose bumps that ran up his skin.

The Common Room never failed to make him feel relaxed, at home, even in the dark, early hours of the morning. Maybe it was the colours, the soft, tranquil blues that bled into violet and purple, or maybe it was the comfortable couches and overstuffed armchairs, or maybe it was the rows of bookshelves that lined the room, crammed full of leather-bound secrets and knowledge and stories passed down from the Founders. It could have just been the crackle of the fire that flickered in the hearth, bathing him in warm, yellow light.

They didn’t have a fire at home; the Parrish family home was small and cold and barely-lived in, like a little destitute museum with nothing on display, or a waiting room, or a warehouse; somewhere that nobody wanted to be. There was a hole in the wall where the previous tenants had ripped out the electric fire and never repaired the damage, and it had been like that for so long that mould had long since begun to grow around the edges. If there was one thing that Adam would do, when he was older, with more pennies in his pocket and a place of his own, it would be to put a real fire in his living room. There was something comforting about kneeling in front of the roaring flames, notes spread around him on the rug, books spelled to keep them open.

“Hey, loser.”

A blue mug appeared in his line of vision, and Adam blinked at it blearily. A pale, slender hand was attached to the mug, dangling it over Adam’s head and in front of his face. Adam didn’t need to turn around to know that Ronan was stood behind him; he could hear the velvet in his voice and smell Ronan’s conditioner in the air.

“Is that for me?” Adam asked, accepting the mug carefully. Ronan snorted and dropped down beside him on the rug, crushing a stray piece of parchment beneath his foot. He was still wearing his jeans and t-shirt, but he had taken off his heavy boots and left them by the portrait door. It didn’t make much of a difference, since Ronan was tall and long and muscular, and didn’t need big boots to take up space. Not that Adam minded – he liked having Ronan in his space.

“Hippopotamus,” Ronan replied solemnly, and Adam paused, arching an eyebrow at him over the top of his mug.

“Ask a fucking stupid question, get a fucking stupid answer,” Ronan explained, rolling his eyes. “Of course it’s for you, asshole, or I wouldn’t have offered it to you and let you take it, would I?”

“It’s called common courtesy,” Adam said patiently, blowing on the hot liquid. “I realise it’s kind of obscure for you, but some people do this thing where they use words for a purpose that _isn’t_ cursing.”

Ronan adopted a high falsetto and fanned his face dramatically, “Common courtesy, Ronan, it’s the bees knees!” Then he took a big gulp of his drink, despite the feather of steam rising up from the mug. “Like I give a fuck. Just hurry up and drink your hot chocolate before I throw it in the fire.”

“Then you’ll be ruining both of our mornings,” Adam pointed out, but he took a sip nonetheless. It was sweet and smooth, nothing like the bitter, lumpy stuff that came in packets, the only kind that Adam had ever had. Adam hummed and savoured the taste, warmth flooding down to his fingertips. “Thanks, Ronan.”

Ronan pulled a face. “Fuck, it’s _morning_ , thanks for that reminder. And you don’t need to thank me, the House Elves made it.”

Adam rolled his eyes and inched closer to the fire. “Just accept the gratitude, Lynch. Aren’t you cold?”

“No, but you obviously are. If you get any closer to that fire, you’re going to be Adam _Perish_.”

Adam choked on his drink and hot chocolate dribbled down his chin. Ronan cackled delightedly and Adam shot him a dark look.

“That was awful,” he said, wiping his mouth, humour creeping into his voice. “Awful. Please, for the love of Merlin, don’t ever try and make a joke again.”

“What do you mean, ‘try’? That was a home run, right there, knocked that one out of the fucking park.” Ronan mimed swinging a bat and then leaned forward into Adam’s space, setting his own mug down beside his knee. “Maybe you wouldn’t be so cold if you didn’t wear clothes with this much fucking ventilation in them.”

He poked at the rip in Adam’s sweatshirt, fingertip lightly brushing over Adam’s skin. Adam shivered as a chill trickled down his spine, and tipped his head up slightly so he could look Ronan in the eye. But Ronan wasn’t looking at him. Instead, Ronan stared at his own hand as he nudged it under Adam’s sweatshirt and wrapped it around Adam’s hipbone, his palm like a hot brand against Adam’s skin. Adam felt the breath leave his lungs, and he had to carefully place his mug on the floor before he spilled hot chocolate everywhere.

“You could always fix my clothes with a spell, if they irritate you that much,” Adam suggested, trying to sound casual. He didn’t know why the words came out as a whisper, but they did, settling in the hushed space between them.

Ronan’s eyes were very dark. “Why would I do that, when I could do this instead?”

Ronan slipped a finger through the rip and tugged until Adam let himself fall forward, mouth catching against Ronan’s. They closed the space between them eagerly, lips brushing and catching in soft, slow drags. Ronan abandoned Adam’s shirt in favour of tugging on his hips, tugging and tugging until Adam shuffled forward and collapsed into Ronan’s lap. Ronan made an odd noise in his throat and kissed him harder, bruising, hands skating up and down Adam’s ribs like he couldn’t decide where to touch first, like he wanted to touch him everywhere, all at once.

Adam pulled back just long enough to murmur, “Someone could walk in.” Ronan leaned forward and bit Adam’s bottom lip, rolling it between his teeth, and Adam swallowed back a noise as his eyes fluttered shut, and that was the end of that argument.

They kissed for what felt like hours, exchanging swift, soft kisses in the dark; shifting between barely-there pressure and then all at once, hot and hard, tongue and teeth. Adam broke away eventually, slid his nose down the side of Ronan’s jaw and hid his face in the long, slender line of Ronan’s neck, trying to breathe. His lips felt raw and his heart was beating fast. He wasn’t cold anymore; in fact, the heat of the fire against his back was a little too much.

“Mmm. Good morning to you too,” Ronan muttered, his breath ghosting across the shell of Adam’s ear.

Adam laughed, a little hysterically. “You started it.”

“That wasn’t a fucking complaint, Parrish, you _loser_.”

“And they say romance is dead.”

*

Adam wasn’t entirely sure how he had got here, but he was beginning to regret it nonetheless.

The Hogwarts Express chuffed leisurely through the countryside. Trees and bushes bled into a green blur, a sea of the same old scenery. It wasn’t enough to distract Adam from the argument that was currently taking place in their compartment, or from his own steadily rising headache. He pressed two fingers to his temple and squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to dull the pain and block out Gansey’s booming voice, but nothing was working.

Warm fingers clasped around his hand and brought it away from his head. Adam kept his eyes shut for an entirely different reason as a fleeting kiss pressed itself against his knuckles, and then the pressure dropped away entirely.

Slowly, Adam opened his eyes. There was a heavy, empty space in the corner of the compartment that suggested Noah’s presence, although the other boy found it hard to exist outside of the castle. Adam had folded himself into the corner furthest from the door. Blue and Gansey sat opposite him, and they were so busy squabbling, inches from each other’s face, that they had failed to notice the kiss.

Ronan was slumped obnoxiously in his seat beside Adam, long legs splayed so that his feet were up against the other chair, just to the left of Blue. One of his hands was busy twirling his wand thoughtlessly; the other lay near enough to Adam that he could easily lace their fingers together if he wanted to.

He kept his hands in his lap.

“I’m right, aren’t I, Adam?”

Adam blinked up at Blue. There was a steely glint in her eye and her mouth was a firm line. “What?” he asked distractedly, resisting the urge to kick Ronan when the other boy sniggered.

“I’m trying to explain the concept of Muggle feminism to Gansey,” Blue explained, a little impatiently. “It’s inspiring, don’t you think? That thousands of women fought furiously for the rights that we now take for granted, and why we can’t just let it stop at where it is. We still have to take action.”

“I never said that you shouldn’t take action,” Gansey said, cutting over Adam’s bewildered reply. “I simply stated that it was the witches and wizards of England that had the biggest effect on the advance in female rights, not the Muggles. I’m not trying to be offensive.”

“Well thank Merlin for that,” Blue said drily. “Otherwise you’d probably start a war. And I know _exactly_ who would finish it.”

Ronan snorted. “Muggle has a point.” Muggle was Ronan’s nickname for Blue. Adam didn’t really understand it, because Blue was a half-blood, but it was better than certain other names that Ronan had invented that had almost got him kicked in the groin. “On both accounts, although I might be more interested if you didn’t make it sound as dull as one of Binn’s lessons on the Goblin Wars. Or any of his lessons, actually.”

“Not all of them are dull,” Gansey said, launching into what Adam liked to think of as his “professional lecturer’s” voice. “In fact, some of them are quite interesting. For instance, did you know that in 1863, the -”

“Fucking fascinating,” Ronan said, interrupting him. Ronan pointed his wand at his head and pretended to shoot it, like a gun, making an explosive sound. Little silver sparks shot out of the end of his wand and danced a little dance before fading into thin air. Adam watched them disappear with a faint smile. There was something about Ronan’s magic that mesmerised him, no matter how crude or simple he pretended it was. It was like the vulgar way that Ronan swore or the reckless way that he flew – everything he did carried a surprising amount of grace, a heart-stopping beauty.

“Harriet told me that Binn’s has been teaching for years,” Blue said. “She told me that he taught Harry Potter when he was at school. None of the other schools have ghosts for teachers. Not any that I know of, anyway.”

Blue was notorious for knowing things. She knew things about everything and everyone, but graciously refused to allow those things to become common knowledge. It constantly surprised Adam that Blue was so popular, that she had friends and associates in every House, in most of the schools that had ever interacted with Hogwarts and even a few that hadn’t. It was surprising only because Blue didn’t seem to enjoy that popularity, the way that people like Henry did, or even use it, the way that Gansey sometimes had to.

It was surprising because out of all the people that would have gladly planted themselves at Blue’s side, she had chosen the three of them, her Ravenclaw Boys.

“That’s because everyone else has some sense,” Adam said, shrugging. “Nobody can get through that class without falling asleep.”

“Except ol’ Dick, here,” Ronan put in, kicking the seat. Blue glared at him sharply, but Ronan didn’t look up. “Where’s that witch with the trolley gone?”

“Her name is Hilda,” Blue said primly.

Ronan raised an eyebrow at her. “Good for her. Doesn’t change the fact that she’s a witch with a trolley, though, does it?”

Blue hissed something in reply, but Adam tuned them out. He still didn’t know what he was doing here; he had been prepared for a quiet, strange Christmas, at Hogwarts, and instead had been surprised that morning with his own packed trunk and an invitation to the Gansey’s for the holidays.

At first, he had been furious at Gansey for ordering him about, for acting like Adam didn’t even need to be _asked_ before Gansey decided on his plans for him. But then he had been bustled along by Blue, who shared a sympathetic glance with him and Ronan, who had muttered something about _not being alone at Christmas_ and _don’t be a dick, Parrish_ , and he had given up, still silently seething, and walked with them to the train.

It helped that Adam didn’t particularly want to spend Christmas alone, and Ronan was going, so he really would be alone.

And now he was here, sat beside Ronan and facing a whole two weeks with him and their friends. He could have coped with just Ronan, in their common room, because everything was easier when it was just them. Everything was easier because Adam didn’t have to question anything.

He had absolutely no idea how to broach the subject of their relationship, mostly because he didn’t know if Ronan _wanted_ them to be in a relationship. Adam wasn’t even sure if he wanted to be in a relationship with Ronan.

He had convinced himself that it could have been a one-time thing, after their first kiss. It could have been a frustrated kiss, a sort of culmination of pent-up anger that had festered over the years. Or worse, Adam thought miserably, it could have been curiosity. At least anger was an emotion, something that Ronan had definitely felt towards Adam on a large number of occasions. Curiosity was just an idle way of wasting time.

And then their second kiss had happened, but Ronan had been drunk, and Adam had told himself that it could have just been attraction, another bout of curiosity, fuelled by alcohol. Maybe he could have believed it, too, if it hadn’t been for last night, in front of the fire.

Now _that_ had been a kiss. And he couldn’t make himself think that it was just curiosity. Ronan wanted him, really wanted him, had maybe never stopped wanting him like Adam had thought in the beginning.

_The fact that you want it to be more than curiosity tells you something._ Adam sighed shortly and let his temple hit the window with a dull thud. A field rushed by, followed by a small road of stone and a barn. It was a peaceful, watery day in December, and Adam was surrounded by bickering friends, a headache-inducing crush and a lot of questions.

*

“I saw that kiss, you know.”

The voice startled Adam so much that he reared back and banged his head against the shelf. He clutched his skull and swore as he stumbled out of the cupboard, dropping the neatly-folded pile of clothes that he had been attempting to put away. They were only going to be at Gansey’s house until term started up again, but there was something compelling about the atmosphere in this old, lavishly-decorated home that made Adam shudder at the idea of living out of his trunk.

“Whoops.”

Blearily, Adam looked in the direction of the voice. Framed in pale sunlight, Noah sat on top of Adam’s dresser, hovering an inch above the oak surface. He swung his legs childishly and grinned unrepentantly at Adam. Adam sighed and rubbed at the back of his head. It was definitely going to bruise.

Almost unconsciously, his hand drifted around to his eye. The bruise around his eye had faded to the lightest shade of yellow, so light that Adam didn’t even have to bother using concealer anymore. He had still dabbed some on, out of habit, but there was no real need. There was also no need to touch it, either, Adam reminded himself, as he ripped his hand away. Noah’s smile grew tight for a brief moment, before his gaze flickered towards Adam’s trunk. Noah snorted.

“You’re the cleanest teenage boy that I’ve ever known,” Noah said, shaking his head. “And in seventy years, I’ve seen quite a lot of people.”

Adam didn’t say that it was a rule that had long-since turned into a habit. Adam’s father had been an Auror, once, before he ruined everything with drink, a man who respected discipline and order and rules. He liked things to be clean and tidy. Adam had been brave enough to peer into his father’s office when he was younger, and true to form, the only things out of place were the empty Firewhiskey bottles that littered the floor.

“You look good for seventy years,” Adam said, smiling slightly. He and Noah were friends, but their relationship wasn’t close. Noah adored Blue, and he had a strange, brotherly relationship with Ronan, and he was just as devoted to Gansey as the rest of them were, but he didn’t seem to know what to make of Adam. Adam didn’t mind, because he didn’t know what to make of Noah, either. They puzzled each other.

“It’s more like ninety, now,” Noah said thoughtfully. Then he tilted his head sideways and his face shifted into something sly. “I should probably leave now, but I’m not going to.”

Adam blinked at him. “Alright,” he said slowly, a little confused. The confusion lifted a moment later when Adam’s door swung open and crashed against the opposite wall. Ronan stood in the doorway, smirk in place as he waved something around in the air. Adam didn’t need to ask to know that it didn’t belong to Ronan. Instead, he was thinking back to what Noah had said that had induced the throbbing pain at the back of his head. _I saw that kiss, you know._ Adam assumed he meant the small, barely-there kiss on the train, but Noah had seen them together so many times that it was beginning to be impossible to tell.

“If Muggle asks, I have no idea where the fuck these are, okay?” Ronan said. He brandished the stolen item in the air, too quickly for Adam to identify it. It was probably something outrageously personal that Ronan shouldn’t have gone anywhere near. Ronan was a big believer in personal space and privacy, but those things went out of the window when pranks and revenge came into play.

_I saw that kiss, you know_.

If Adam were the type to swear freely, he probably would have released a torrent of swear words. It wasn’t that he was ashamed, or even that he didn’t want people to know about him and Ronan – it was that, at the moment, there was no him and Ronan. And Adam was confused enough without having to answer other people’s questions on top of his own. Add that to the fact that all of Adam’s friends were the nosiest people on the planet, and it made for a clusterfuck of a situation.

He could have explained away the kiss, with alcohol and curiosity. A small, affectionate kiss to the hand was different, softer, more meaningful. Adam _wanted_ it to mean something.

“You look half-dead,” Ronan stated. He arranged his headphones more comfortably around his neck and sneered at them both. “Is Noah contagious now?” He didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, he casually threw himself on top of Adam’s bed, sprawled out like a starfish, and then slid his headphones up to his ears. Noah rolled his eyes and shifted, temporarily rendering himself invisible as the sun slipped through him. It didn’t really help Adam’s headache.

There were three things that Adam wanted to say to Ronan. One was _get your shoes off of my bed_. The next was _don’t kiss me where people like Noah can see_. And the last was perhaps the most important of all.

_Kiss me properly next time._

Well, that answered that, then. Adam wanted this. Adam had always wanted this, and his burning crush had been just as bright in their younger years as it was now, and he had been waiting but never actually expecting anything, but now he wanted it.

Adam glanced up at Noah, who’s smile was surprisingly kind. He remembered talking to him and Blue, in a cupboard, during their Halloween ball, and it had only been two months ago, but it felt much longer. Blue, at least, wouldn’t have a problem with this. It looked like Noah wouldn’t, either.

He looked at Ronan, who caught his stare and stared back calmly, one eyebrow arched as he thumbed through his music.

“Got that phoenix song?” Adam asked, abandoning his clothes in favour of sitting beside Ronan, feet tucked up underneath him, fingers ghosting along Ronan’s shoulder. Noah snorted, and Adam ignored him.

He could do this.

*

They slipped away from the party as soon as they could and hurried up the staircase towards Gansey’s room, laughing and pushing each other. Adam caught Blue before she could fall down the stairs and shoved her gently into Gansey, who laughed throatily and opened the door, sweeping into a dramatic bow as they filed past him. Ronan shoved him in the head on his way past, and Blue giggled. A fire crackled merrily in the grate, filling the room with warmth and a soft orange glow. The House Elves had filled one corner with gifts in all shapes and sizes, and Gansey’s bedposts were decorated with loops of shimmering green wreath.

Blue stroked the wreath and smiled. “I have fairy lights around my bed. Blue ones. Your House Elves are thoughtful.”

Gansey raised one eyebrow. “Why Jane, you have changed your tune. I thought you didn’t approve of the – what did you say again? Ah yes, ‘the subtle but brutal command and control over beings considered inferior to humans just because of their stature, status and species.’”

Blue scowled up at him. She opened her mouth to reply, but Noah cut in over her, materialising on top of the bed.

“Guys, not at Christmas,” Noah whined. “Be holy.”

Blue snorted, shooting Gansey one last glare. Gansey held up both hands in mock surrender, the corner of his mouth twitching into a grin.

Adam had never been able to decide on whether he loved or hated Christmas. He knew it was a religious holiday, but he also knew it was commercialised and full of traditions. The Parrish family didn’t have any traditions, and they didn’t go to Church anymore.

Adam wasn’t particularly looking forward to the presents. He liked receiving presents just as much as the next guy, but he didn’t like receiving them when he knew that the gifts he’d gotten in return were nowhere near as good. Most of his money went on new school robes and books, quills and ink and other equipment. Potions ingredients alone cost a ridiculous amount of money, and since Adam wasn’t very good at potions, he spent quite a lot of his free time using up all of his own ingredients.

Blue leapt onto the bed beside Noah and flopped down on the cushions. She toed off her boots, which started at her thighs and finished in a pointy tip, and for a moment, nobody knew where to look, barring Ronan, who kicked the door shut and walked over. Blue shot them all glares, and then folded her legs up before making grabby hands at Gansey.

“Presents,” she said firmly. “It’s Christmas Eve, so we all get to open one present each.”

Gansey smiled at her a little dopily, and then hastily rearranged his expression when Ronan smirked at him. Adam climbed onto the bed, nestled between Blue and Noah, and jumped when Ronan put his feet in his lap, shoes and all. Adam shoved them away.

“Take your own shoes off,” he muttered, and then a present whirled through the air and smacked him in the face.

“Sorry,” Gansey said apologetically, as Blue spluttered with laughter and Ronan cackled. “I’m not the most co-ordinated person. That one _is_ for you, though. Happy Christmas, Adam.” He beamed at Adam, who couldn’t help but quirk a smile back.

“Thanks, Gansey,” he said quietly, picking the present up carefully. “Happy Christmas.”

*

The dungeon was hot, the air thick and viscous with green and violet smoke that pirouetted up to graze against the stone ceiling. Adam felt like he was standing in a pool of treacle, his feet glued to the ground as he pulled at his collar, wincing at the heat emanating from his cauldron.

Technically, it was _their_ cauldron.

Ronan had shed his robes, leaving him standing beside Adam with his shirt untucked and tie askew, waving his wand menacingly at the cauldron.

“What the fuck?” Ronan hissed. He dropped the wand onto the desk in disgust, swept a pile of lacewing flies into his hand and chucked them over his shoulder while the professor wasn’t looking. There was a squawk from the couple behind him, but they quieted as Ronan glowered over his shoulder.

“We must have missed something,” Adam muttered, flipping through the book.

“No shit, Parrish.”

“Five points from Ravenclaw for swearing, Mr Lynch.”

The ugly painting of Severus Snape sneered at them from its position over the front desk. It was an unpleasant picture, all murky green and black oils that captured the hook-nose and the greasy hair perfectly. Adam had faced worse people, bigger bullies, but he still didn’t like to look at the portrait if he could help it. Ronan had no such qualms; a rude hand gesture and a blank look when Calla, their potions professor, turned around, frowning, served him just as well as avoidance served Adam.

“Here,” Adam said, tapping the black font with his finger. “We missed out step seven. We were supposed to add the tarragon, and it’s still here, see?”

“I see,” Ronan all but growled, shifting forward to grab the offending ingredient.

“We can’t put it in now,” Adam said loudly, alarmed, but it was too late.

Pink steam poured off the top of the potion with a deafening hiss, and Adam grabbed Ronan’s arm, dragging them backwards out of the way just as Ronan got a face-full of smoke. Adam felt a powerful bundle of scents wash over him – old books and a touch of mint and hot, sweet apple pie and this leathery scent, like wax, the kind that Ronan was always working carefully into the handle of his broomstick in the evenings, with a loving, tender care that bordered on indecent. Adam clapped a hand over his nose and mouth and refused to breathe, one hand still on Ronan’s forearm as he fumbled for his wand.

Gansey was across the room in an instant, his wand out as he vanished the contents of the cauldron and got rid of the steam. He took hold of Ronan’s shoulders as the other boy coughed and waved his hand around irritably, like he was trying desperately to swat at several evasive flies.

“Is everyone alright?”

Calla appeared beside them, her wand clutched between long plum-coloured nails. She scowled at the mess on the desk, and then curled her lip at Snape, who was laughing nastily. She waved her wand and a thin black curtain dropped down over the portrait, muffling an outraged noise.

“Bastard,” Calla spat out, and then she glanced critically at Adam and Ronan. “Neither of you are missing any vital appendages, it seems. Next time, follow the instructions carefully. Idiots.”

She stalked off to deal with a student at the back of the room whose potion was oozing all over the floor, muttering under her breath about how she wasn’t paid enough for this.

“Are you okay?” Gansey asked, staring at Adam intently. He moved to put a hand on Adam’s shoulder, but his movement was cut off by Ronan, who suddenly seized Gansey’s wrist in mid-air. Both Gansey and Adam blinked at him.

Adam felt uneasy.

“Lynch?” Gansey asked warily, trying to pull his hand back.

Ronan’s expression went dreamy – there was a glassy look in his eyes, something that Adam had never seen there before. Gansey took a careful step back, but Ronan moved with him, going up on his tip-toes as he invaded Gansey’s space. He had a sickeningly happy smile on his face, and it looked _wrong_ , somehow, because Ronan didn’t smile like that.

“Ronan?” Adam asked, tugging on Ronan’s sleeve.

Ronan shot him an irritable look, and for a moment Adam’s heart leapt – he was back to normal, everything was _fine_ – and then Ronan shook his arm out of Adam’s reach and sneered at him.

“Get the fuck off of me, Parrish.”

Adam let his hand fall to his side, limp, his mouth dropping open in surprise and not a small amount of hurt. Gansey shot him a panicked look over the top of Ronan’s head, shoving unaffectedly at the taller boy’s shoulders as Ronan nuzzled his neck with a happy sigh.

“There’s definitely something wrong with him,” Gansey said, face bright red and getting redder with each happy second. Adam could hear people snickering behind him and groaned – this was going to be all over the school as soon as class was over.

The bell rang.

“He hasn’t even got any hair to grab,” Gansey hissed, pushing at Ronan’s forehead. Adam watched, still a little stumped, as Ronan grabbed one of Gansey’s hands and tried to hold it, kissing his way up Gansey’s neck. It probably would have been a bit funny, Adam thought faintly, if it weren’t for the crushing weight on his chest or the memory of Ronan’s foul glare when he looked at Adam.

“Alright, move along,” Calla said loudly, clapping her hands and shimmying the dawdling crowd out into the corridor. Adam caught Henry’s eye as the other boy floated past him and asked if he would tell Blue that they’d meet her back in the Common Room later.

“Naturally,” Henry said cheerfully. “I thought it was supposed to be an Affection Potion, not a Love Potion?”

“Tarragon,” Calla said succinctly, crossing her arms over her chest and watching Gansey squawk and slap Ronan’s hands away, which were beginning to roam. “It’s an enhancer _and_ it lowers inhibition.”

“I’d love to stay and chat,” Henry said, tapping the side of his modified wheelchair. “But I have a beautiful, terrifying girl to woo.”

Gansey squawked for an entirely different reason, watching Henry leave with wide eyes. He caught Adam’s gaze pleadingly, and Adam sighed and marched forward, grabbing the back of Ronan’s shirt and hauling him away with the help of Calla.

Ronan made an outraged noise, swearing fitfully as Calla manhandled him onto a stool and waved her wand in his face.

“Stay there, or I’ll knock you out and say it was for your own good,” Calla threatened. “Gansey, hold his hand or something.”

Ronan’s face melted into that dreamy smile again, and Adam shuddered. Ronan didn’t smile like that.  

Gansey reluctantly held out his hand and let Ronan lace their fingers together, trying to furtively straighten his collar and rub at his neck. There were red marks all over his throat that kept catching Adam’s eye.

“This is the limit, okay?” Gansey told Ronan firmly, indicating their joined hands. “As soon as classes start up again, we’ll walk to the Hospital Wing and get you fixed up.”

“I don’t need to be fixed,” Ronan insisted, shifting on his seat. “I’ve got you. Your love is all I need.”

He said it so earnestly that Adam had to hold back a hysterical laugh. Gansey looked alarmed more than anything, and Calla mimed vomiting before waving her hand at the fireplace in the corner of the dungeon.

“Please, use the Floo and get him out of here,” she said. “Before I knock him out for _my_ own good.”

Gansey sent Adam a slightly panicked look, and Adam squared his shoulders. Ronan glared at him as he came closer, but Adam ignored him, hitching one hand under Ronan’s arm and working with Gansey to lead him towards the Floo. It didn’t work.

“I can walk on my own, Parrish,” Ronan spat out. “I don’t need your fucking help.”

_He’s under the influence_ , Adam told himself firmly. _This is about him, not you. He doesn’t mean any of it, it’s the potion talking._

“I want Adam to come with us,” Gansey said, tugging on Ronan’s hand as they grew closer to the fire. He sent a reassuring look to Adam over Ronan’s shoulder, and Adam smiled grimly back.

*

Gansey stayed around just long enough for Ronan to bury his head under a pillow and insist that Gansey _fuck off_ , and then he high-tailed it out of the Hospital Wing like his ass was on fire. Adam watched him go a little enviously before he awkwardly sat on the edge of the bed. He changed direction at the last minute and sat on one of the plastic chairs instead, fiddling with his thumbs as he tried to work out what to say.

After a few minutes, Ronan ripped the pillow away and sat up, only to spook at the sight of Adam, his whole body jerking in shock.

“I thought you left when Gansey did,” Ronan said, after a pause.

Adam opened his mouth and then froze. Of _course_ Ronan didn’t want him there, not after the rollercoaster of embarrassment he’d just been on. Merlin, Adam wouldn’t have wanted Ronan there if he’d been forced to kiss his best friend because of a potion that Ronan had fucked up, so why would it be any different this way round?

Adam stood up immediately, spouting something about leaving to do some homework and a few jumbled apologies, but then Ronan’s hand shot out and grabbed Adam’s wrist.

“Don’t,” Ronan said quietly.

“I don’t have to stay,” Adam said stiffly. “If you want to be alone, I can leave, and I can apologise later. I’ll make you food, or something, or finish off your Charms essay.”

Ronan’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Why the fuck would you need to apologise? I’m the one that was an asshole to you. I basically made out with our best friend right in front of your face.” 

Adam collapsed on the edge of the bed immediately, turning his arm over in Ronan’s grip so that he could squeeze his hand.

“Don’t be stupid,” Adam said impatiently. “I messed up the potion. You didn’t want to do any of that stuff, and you wouldn’t have if it was your choice. Whatever you did was not your fault, and Gansey knows it too. You don’t have to be ashamed, Ronan.”

Ronan looked down, playing with Adam’s fingers distractedly. He did that if he was thinking, sometimes, when they were alone, when his mind was otherwise occupied. Adam had always liked it, but this time he put a finger under Ronan’s chin and lifted it until they were looking at each other, heart pounding slightly.

For the first time, Adam initiated the kiss.

He kept it brief, just firm, fleeting touches, mindful of the fact that they were in the Hospital Wing, and anyone could draw back the curtains and find them kissing. The thought made him press a little closer, licking tentatively along Ronan’s bottom lip; Ronan made a sharp, surprised down, and his lips parted shakily under Adam’s tongue.

Adam drew back with a slick sound, but stayed close enough that he could feel Ronan’s breath on his face. This close, he could see Ronan’s blown pupils, count every eyelash that swept against those pale, fine cheekbones, kiss the tendrils of the tattoo that crept up over Ronan’s shoulder, peeking out from under his shirt.

“If you still felt the need to apologise,” Ronan said roughly, as Adam planted a kiss in the hollow of his throat, “we could always revisit this, later.” 

Adam drew back properly and grinned.

*

Adam had one arm curled up beneath his pillow, the other on top of Ronan’s hand, which was curled faintly over Adam’s hip, like if he pressed too hard Adam would shatter. They were pressed together, knee to knee and toe to toe, Ronan’s chest firm against Adam’s back, breath hot against the back of his neck, tickling the fine blonde hairs.

They were in that hazy space between sleeping and waking. Adam blinked at the blue velvet curtains, sleep still fogging his mind, and stretched carefully. He felt it all the way down to his toes, which brushed Ronan’s socked feet. Ronan murmured something sleepily against his skin, and Adam shivered before burrowing deeper down under his covers. He had kicked them off in the night, twisted them around his ankles, but he didn’t want to get cold now and spoil the moment. This was something that he wanted to savour.

It felt nice here, cocooned in warmth and the scent of another boy, of shampoo and a little bit of alcohol. Streaks of watery sunlight crept into the dormitory as the sun peered over the horizon. It was early enough that Adam could justify not moving, just staying there in the warm, safe space they had made for themselves, relishing the listless drip of time passing by.

He didn’t know how long he lay there, drifting in and out of sleep, before Ronan dropped a purposeful kiss on the tip of his ear.

“Good morning,” murmured Ronan. Sleep had stolen his voice, warmed it until it was soft and lilting and hoarse.

“It is,” Adam agreed, tangling their legs together hesitantly. The bed was small enough that they had to fit together snugly if they wanted to stay on top of it, but there was still too much space between them, in Adam’s opinion.

“Nice way to wake up,” Ronan said, with the haste to his voice that meant he hadn’t intended for the words to slip out. He tugged at Adam’s hip until Adam shifted and rolled over so that they were chest to chest, tucking his head under Ronan’s chin.

“I think my arm’s been chopped off in my sleep,” Ronan mused. He made no move to rescue it from beneath their pillow. Adam reached up and smoothed the crease between Ronan’s brow with his fingers; Ronan caught Adam’s hand and pulled it down to his lips, kissed his palm.

“You have an odd fascination with my hands,” Adam said absently, watching as Ronan kissed his way along each finger, eyes at half-mast like he didn’t know he was doing it.

A kiss on his knuckle.

“I should probably be concerned,” Adam said quietly, fighting a yawn.

Kisses on every fingertip, lips catching on the calluses.

“Gansey would say you’re struggling with hand partialism.”

Another kiss, this time at the beginning of his wrist, and then Ronan said lazily, “Please don’t mention Gansey when we’re in bed together. It ruins the mood, makes me want to punch something. Preferably him.”

“You always want to punch something,” Adam said, rolling his eyes and pressing himself impossibly closer.

“Not true,” Ronan said easily. “Sometimes I want to curse things instead.”

Adam hummed, smiling wryly, and wrapped one arm around Ronan. He skimmed his hands along Ronan’s back, walked his fingers up his spine, lingering on the ridges. Ronan had fallen silent, his breathing a little louder than usual.

“Did you sleep?”

“Some,” Ronan admitted. “Woke up in the middle of the night though, because _someone_ kicked me in the fucking shin, but I slept before that. Why, we gonna exchange dreams and write them in our diaries?”

Adam snorted. “We could give them to Blue, she’d have a field day with them. She might even read them out in Divination, if we’re lucky.”

“I don’t think she’d want anything to do with my dreams,” Ronan said darkly.

Adam stayed quiet, but tightened his grip until he was hugging Ronan properly. There was nothing to say in the face of that, nothing to soothe the boy who’d brushed against real nightmares, the kind that popped up surreally in your normal, everyday life and scarred you.  He remembered Ronan talking, once, fast-paced and angrily, on the floor of the Astronomy tower, drunk out of his mind, spitting the words out like they were laced with poison and it hurt too much to keep them in.

_“Just lying there on the ground, eyes open and not fucking seeing anything, blood all over the ground, I didn’t think spells could do that, I didn’t think they could be that fucking messy, not like that.”_

He didn’t know if Ronan remembered what he’d said about his dad, the next day, but Adam would never forget it, never forget the fear in his voice and the raw pain in his eyes.

“I had a dream about Professor Trelawney,” Adam offered. It was a lie, but it made Ronan relax and snort right in his ear.

“That’s not a _dream_ , Adam, that’s a fucking nightmare.”

Adam laughed, and then almost shrieked when the curtain was ripped open.

“Adam, have you seen Ly-”

Gansey cut himself off with his own, slightly high-pitched shriek, and toppled backwards out of sight. The curtain rippled as it swung back into place, blocking them from view, and Adam and Ronan stared at each other. Ronan’s eyes were wide with shock, and Adam caught the moment that it changed from shock to amusement, caught the way his mouth twitched as he snorted and then buried his face in the pillow, laughing hysterically.

“Ronan,” Adam sighed, rolling away and clambering off of the bed. He pulled back the curtain and grimaced at Gansey, who had picked himself off of the floor and was staring at him with a dazed expression, as if someone had recently hit him over the head with something very heavy.

“That,” Gansey said, “wasn’t quite what I expected.”

Noah snorted from across the room, where he was hovering cross-legged above his own bed. “I told you not to look. And they haven’t exactly been subtle, Gansey, I don’t know how you didn’t notice. I’ve walked in on them kissing more times than I can count.”

“Twice,” Adam said, rolling his eyes. “You’ve seen us kissing _twice_.”

“Kissing,” Gansey repeated softly. His eyes were wide behind his wiry glasses, so wide that Adam was a little afraid they were about to pop out of his head.

“Twice is more than enough,” Noah said with a shrug, smirking.

*

The sun was pale and watery, peeking out from behind a dark cloud. It was cold, but not cold enough for Adam to bother going indoors. Adam lay on his back on the soft grass, arms behind his head and eyes at half-mast. Ronan ruined the still, tranquil peace of the afternoon by throwing stone after stone at the surface of the Black Lake. Each one landed heavily in the water and sank gloomily to the bottom.

“Do you have to do that?” Adam asked. It was just him and Ronan. Blue was in Divination class and Gansey was waiting for her, head buried in a book as he tried to find an excuse regarding their quest that would make waiting for Blue acceptable. The truth of it was that he just wanted to see her. Adam knew exactly why they wouldn’t admit their attraction to each other, but that didn’t mean he didn’t think it was a stupid reason. They were both afraid of hurting each other, afraid of the prophecy that had spilled from Maura’s lips when Blue was just a child, the one where a single kiss could kill Blue’s true love.

Adam had no doubt that Blue and Gansey were meant for each other, in the forever way. One upon a time, he would have had a problem with that, but now he had his own forever sort of love.

“I don’t _have_ to.” Another stone met its’ watery doom. Adam peeled open one eye and glared half-heartedly at Ronan, who was in his usual state of undress, messy tie and unbuttoned shirt, laces pooling at the bottom of his trainers. He leaned up against the large tree, just a few breaths away from Adam. His face was tilted up, the white sun highlighting the curve of his jaw and his dark, glittering eyes. He glanced at Adam and waved another stone provokingly in his face.

“You’re going to run out of stones eventually,” Adam muttered, settling back down. A breeze brushed over them both and Adam shuddered.

“Yeah, but before or after you run out of patience?” Ronan asked, posing philosophically. The smirk rather ruined his scholarly image. “That’s the question. Besides, I can always throw Noah in there after the stones are all gone. Or I could use this little thing called magic that lets us conjure things up. Mind-blowing, I know.”

Something in the water croaked. Adam sighed as another breeze left him shivering. It was beginning to grow cold as the afternoon bled into evening, leaving him glancing warily at the sky. Britain was known mostly for its’ excellent variety of tea and miserable weather.

“It looks like it might rain,” Adam said. He sat up, a little groggy, and shuffled back to lean against the tree too. Ronan’s shoulders took up most of the space, but he snorted and shifted over when Adam shot him a pathetic look. It was the only thing that worked in his favour, since Ronan was mostly immune to bribery, unless it involved alcohol and fast brooms. Pathetic looks, though, were something that Ronan seemed less and less able to combat, when they came from Adam.

Ronan conjured up a little pile of pebbles and settled them in his lap. One by one, he picked them up and skimmed them across the lake with a fast flick of his wrist. Adam watched blearily. The sound had become soothing, as opposed to annoying, like a steady heartbeat, quietly lulling him to sleep.

“If you fall asleep out here, I’m not carrying you inside,” Ronan warned him. “You weigh a fucking ton.” His voice was soft and warm, and Adam sighed, welcoming it. He was as obsessed with Ronan’s voice as Ronan was with Adam’s hands.

“I lost weight over Christmas, actually,” Adam mumbled around a yawn. He missed the sharp look that Ronan threw him, too busy wiping the sleep from his eyes. “We should go in, soon,” he said. “Before I really do fall asleep.”

“Yeah,” Ronan said quietly.

Neither of them moved. A light mist had descended over the grounds, cloaking the lake in a hazy shroud. Adam breathed deeply as rain began to fall from the sky. Ronan threw another pebble, but they didn’t see it hit the water. Adam could feel the heat from Ronan’s body burning into his own. He wanted to lay his head down on Ronan’s shoulder, maybe link their hands together. Ronan’s hands looked warm.

“Reckon the others have gone to dinner?”

Ronan shrugged. “Fuck knows. Probably. Bastards are probably laughing at us right now.”

Adam hummed in agreement, and then froze in surprise as a hand curved around his waist. The movement jostled him, bringing him closer to Ronan’s shoulder. Ronan kept his grip on Adam’s hip light. He drew small circles on Adam’s skin, the warmth startling even through a layer of cotton. Even this small touch drove Adam’s heart insane. He could feel it thumping away erratically in his chest, faster than a hummingbird. Unable to keep it in, Adam sighed quietly.

Ronan tensed like he was about to move away, but Adam stopped him by dropping his head down onto Ronan’s shoulder. He shuffled closer and greedily accepted the heat that clung to Ronan like an invisible blanket. Their ankles touched briefly, and Adam smiled.

“We’re really doing this, then?” Adam asked, voice muffled by Ronan’s shoulder. The rain began to pick up speed, pattering against the sodden earth like bullets, draping the grounds in a grey cloak.

“What the fuck does it look like?” Ronan asked, but there was no snap to his voice, and Adam couldn’t hide his grin.

“Even after school?” Adam asked softly. There were no wizarding schools in Henrietta, and so to England they had come, all of them, but not all of them intended to return. Adam certainly hadn’t. There was nothing left for him now, in Virginia.

He glanced up at Ronan and thought that, maybe, that wasn’t quite true anymore.

Ronan’s grip remained calm and steady. “Even after school. I know you don’t want to go home, but we can work something out.”

Adam closed his eyes. There was rain, and there was Ronan, and there was the future stretched out ahead of them, bright and, in some ways, achingly uncertain. One thing he knew for sure, though, was that he could always come back to this. This would always be here, waiting for him, in his mind and in person, this comfort, this steady, comforting grip. He leaned up and kissed Ronan’s cheek, and Ronan turned his head and caught his mouth with his instead, and Adam melted into it, the way he always would.

He was already home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it :) I probably won't do another chapter, I kinda just wanted to cement their relationship and stuff, so I hope you liked it! Please feel free to leave a comment/kudos, that would be very much appreciated. Thank you so much! Come yell at me on my tumblr @thealmostrhetoricalquestion :) Thanks!

**Author's Note:**

> Noah didn't mind getting spelled out of the window, I promise.  
> Let me know what you think?  
> You can find me by typing thealmostrhetoricalquestion into Tumblr :)  
> Thank you so much for reading!!!


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